Your Nature
by secooper87
Summary: A war-weary, 2003 Buffy finds herself vaulted into an altered version of her own past, in which the First Evil is guaranteed to succeed in his plans. She has to stop the First, change time back, and... okay, seriously, who's the big-eared English Northerner wearing the leather jacket that keeps following Buffy around?
1. Part I

_Love. Give. Forgive. Risk the pain. It is your nature. — Sineya_

... ... ...

Part I

Buffy wasn't dreaming.

She wished she was. She wished she'd been dreaming for the last year. Or the last two. But she was wide awake. And so was the stranger in the room with her.

"You poor, silly little girl," came his taunting British lilt. He strolled over to her, past Spike — still sleeping on the cot in the basement — and towards Buffy. The green of his frock coat catching the moonlight, his eyes shining as if they were real. He stretched out a hand as if to lean against a nearby chair, but his hand went right through it.

Not dreaming.

"The First," muttered Buffy. "Again." She glanced up and down, examining the non-corporeal person who'd just appeared in her basement. "You know, it kind of takes the punch out of it if you appear in the shape of someone I don't even know."

The First's green eyes twinkled. "Don't you know me? Your other-self did. Travelled with me for four years." He leaned forwards. "She thought I was a monster."

A chill ran through Buffy as she realized who the First was impersonating. Her mouth felt dry, and when she opened it to reply, no words formed.

"Of course, there have been other faces," the First continued. He morphed through a dizzying array of people — all men, but of different sizes and shapes and complexions. Some old, some young, one with a long scarf and another with a hideous multi-colored jacket. The apparition flickered when it got to the 9th face — the visage of a tall man with close-cropped hair and a leather jacket — then morphed back into the 8th body once more. "But I'm quite partial to this one."

"You're missing a few faces," Buffy pointed out. "That's only nine you've shown me."

The First ignored her. Instead, he examined the green frock coat, admiration in his eyes. "You could say it's my favorite. The body that condemned billions to death in a single instant. The body that burned his own kind, that slaughtered planets and became known through galaxies as the annihilator of worlds." He met Buffy's eyes. "The body that destroyed your other-self."

"Oh, I see! You can't do it, can you?" said Buffy, with a dry laugh. "You can only transform into dead people. But the Doctor shows up in Sunnydale out of order. Anything past his 9th incarnation — for me, _that_ version of him would still be alive. You can't show up as a him I know, because for me, the Doctor isn't dead."

"Naturally," said the First, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But what you should be asking yourself is why. Why I would be able to appear to you as the Doctor, when I couldn't manage Tara?"

Buffy said nothing.

"Ah, but you already know that," said the First, his lips tilting into a small smile. "Tara was pure." He spread his arms, to indicate himself. "The Doctor is not."

Buffy gritted her teeth.

"You waited for him, didn't you?" said the First. "Up in heaven? A child's delusion. He knows just as well as I do. When he dies, his soul isn't going to heaven." The smile widened. "Not at all."

Buffy turned away. "Shut up."

"A murderer," the First continued, in that suave British accent. "A destroyer. A manipulator of time and space. One willing to sacrifice anyone or anything to suit his own ends." The First gave a small laugh. "Just like me."

Buffy spun around to face the First, a storm in her eyes. "He is _not_ like you," she growled.

The First crossed his arms, pride in his face. "How?"

"He'd never hunt down and kill innocent girls just because of how they were born," Buffy said. "He'd never even think of it."

The First laughed outright at this. "Your sister might disagree."

Buffy said nothing for a long moment. A very long moment. Then, finally, "He gives them a chance. He gives everyone a chance."

"I gave you a chance," said the First.

Buffy shook her head, and turned away.

"Caleb was a good, faithful servant," the First called after her. "But he wasn't my first choice. He wasn't the one I picked out, five years ago."

Buffy froze in her tracks. She remembered. The first time she'd met the Doctor. When he'd told her about the First Evil — Toby, the Doctor had called him.

_I destroyed his body, so he's decided to take mine._

That car ride, the way the Doctor felt as she dragged him back into the TARDIS. The way his skin grew cold, the way his TARDIS key burned him — as the First tried to take over, make the Doctor his willing servant.

"All I want is to destroy the Slayer line forever," said the First. "I don't really care how." He gave a shrug. "If I'd had the Doctor, I might have done it bloodlessly. But, of course, you made that impossible. Snatched the Doctor away from me. Forced me to gather up my Bringers and Turok-Hans and hunt down every potential Slayer throughout the world. Countless innocent girls died, and why? Because of you, Buffy Summers. That choice you made. They died because you were selfish, and saved the Doctor."

Buffy felt a chill run down her spine. All those potential Slayers that had been killed, at the First's hand, all those innocent young girls hunted and murdered — had she really been to blame? Could it be…?

She shook herself. No. This was stupid. Of course this wasn't her fault. This was the First being manipulative. The First trying to plant doubt, guilt, and chaos into her mind.

Buffy didn't even look back at the non-corporeal entity. Just began to walk away.

"But enough talk," came a new voice. A rougher sounding British accent. Northern, kind of. The sound of footsteps behind her, and in a burst of movement, the image of the Ninth Doctor appeared before her, leather jacket and all. "Done with talk. How 'bout I show you?"

"What?" said Buffy.

The Ninth Doctor's eyes gleamed, and he reached out towards her.

"No, wait!" shouted Buffy.

But her words were lost, as he grabbed her wrist, his hand cool against her flesh, and everything happened at once. The world seemed to open around her and swallow her up, as the essence of reality spun and churned and dove, as the air howled and the colors of the world blurred…

A jolt through her brain, as she found herself back in the Watchers Council building, the pinstripe suited Doctor lying limp on the floor, his brown eyes large and desperate. Telling her that the First was trying to possess him. Pleading to bring him back to the TARDIS.

Except the world was moving too fast. Almost too fast to process, events darting around her in super-fast-forward. Buffy and the Doctor were outside and then they weren't. They were in the car, Buffy was driving, the London traffic zipping around her at a terrifying speed. The Doctor grabbed her arm and then let go. His hand burned as he dropped the TARDIS key. Setting 522 on the screwdriver — lock the coordinates. TARDIS will do you no favors.

On and on, phrases and words crashing across Buffy as if drowning her in their ocean.

And then she felt herself running towards the TARDIS, the Doctor draped across her shoulder, and he was dying, dying, and she grabbed for the Vamp-Away, unstopped it, and…

BANG!

Buffy was slammed into time, once more, the unstopped Vamp-Away vial in her hand, as she was about to pour the contents down the Doctor's throat.

Only, this time, she never got the chance.

His hand flew up and caught her wrist, pouring the liquid onto the ground beside him. The hand felt cold, clammy, lifeless; devoid of that familiar double-pulse.

Then he opened his eyes.

Black, merciless eyes. Bitter eyes. Cold and cruel eyes, boring into her.

"You," he growled. "Who are you? What have you done?"

Buffy shuddered back, instinctively. "No," she breathed. No, this wasn't right. This couldn't be right. This wasn't what was supposed to happen!

In a burst of movement, he was on top of her, holding her down against the grating of the console room, his grasp impossibly strong, his voice venomous. "Who are you? How did you get here? What have you done to time?"

Buffy closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then, gathering every ounce of strength she had, she surged out and kicked him off of her, making him collapse onto the floor.

He rolled and emerged on his feet, trainers padding along the console room grating like a cat, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Who are you?" the Doctor shouted. "What are you here for? What did you do?!"

Buffy knew more than felt the knife in her pocket. She knew what she had to do. What a younger-her would be doing, right now, for the sake of time and space and the universe. But… she wasn't younger-her.

She hadn't just met the Doctor. She knew him. She… _loved_ him. Had waited two years, her every breath hoping that he'd come back. Had sent two years worth of psychic paper messages urging him to sweep her away again. Had spent two years… needing him… and learning to live with the fact that she'd never see him again.

But here he was.

And she had to kill him.

"No," Buffy said, again.

The Doctor gave her one last, long stare, then turned away from her, and walked towards the central console. Buffy surged forwards, her hand wrapping around the sonic screwdriver in her pocket. Setting 522. Got it. Just as the Doctor's fingers reached the buttons, Buffy triggered the sonic, and the console exploded into a shower of sparks.

"No!" The Doctor, this time, his face glaring at her through the flames of his ship, as the TARDIS wheezed and groaned and shook around them.

Buffy dove at him, her instincts driving her onwards as her heart shouted at her to stop. She slammed into him and threw him back, but he grabbed her arms and let her fall with him, flipping her across his head and throwing her against a coral pillar. She fell to the ground, and barely had time to comprehend what had just happened before he was on her again, his shadow draped across her body like a blanket.

"What have you done?" he cried. "Where did you come from? Why are you here?"

Buffy flipped onto her feet, facing the Doctor. Except… he wasn't the Doctor, anymore. Couldn't be. Just… a monster. A servant of the First, like Caleb. He was no more the Doctor than Angelus had been Angel.

She threw a punch, and he blocked her expertly. Then twisted her around, but she ducked under his arm and forced him to let her go. A high-pitched buzzing noise, and Buffy realized he'd somehow got the sonic back from her, was pointing it now at the central console of the TARDIS, right where she was standing. The area beside her grew red hot, almost burning her, its light too intense for her to see through.

_Don't rely on the TARDIS for any favors after I turn…_

A burst of steamed seared past Buffy, and she tried to scuttle away, but ran right into the Doctor's cold hands. He held her by the shoulders, his eyes fixed on hers, but there was no pity in those eyes. No light. No kindness. They were dark, cruel, malicious.

He was going to kill her.

She was sure.

And then, for no reason, he cried out. Shuddered back. Stumbled and fell, his eyes clenched shut, as he curled up on the console room floor.

Shaking.

He gasped out a word that Buffy couldn't pick up. He shook even harder, his teeth gritted, and he curled up even tighter.

Then he screamed.

Hands covering his head, words turning to faint, unintelligible mutterings, face ashy as death. His hands began to tear at his hair as the words grew louder, and Buffy realized they weren't English.

Buffy stopped in her tracks, and realized she'd already begun advancing forwards. Her knife in her hand. She'd been stalking towards the Doctor — hunting, Dracula had called it — acting purely on instinct. The steel blade raised. Prepared to slice through both hearts. Kill him. Like he'd said.

She froze, her breath caught in her throat.

The knife dropped to the grating with a clang.

Oh, God. She'd been about to… had nearly… and she wasn't even aware of her own actions. Hadn't even wanted to do it. Instinct. Hunting. Automatic responses. The Doctor's eyes glanced back at her, those cold, soulless eyes, now shining with a look of desperation, of fear, pleading with her for mercy, for forgiveness…

(The forgiveness he'd given her, over and over again, even when she didn't deserve it. The pride and hope and faith he'd poured into her, even when she betrayed him.)

Buffy stumbled back a few steps, and the doors to the TARDIS burst open, flooding the machine with sunlight. She mouthed a silent "sorry," as she turned and bolted out of the TARDIS. Nearly tripping over her own two feet, as she found herself running as fast as she could, through...

Sunnydale. The graveyard. The way it had been five years ago.

The doors clicked shut behind her, and she spun around to face them. Half of her ready to rush in and finish what she'd started — what he'd asked her to do. Kill him. Save the universe.

The other half knowing she'd never be able to.

"Bit predictable," came a rough Northern voice to Buffy's right. "Lettin' him go like that."

Buffy snapped her head around to find the leather-jacketed form of the Ninth Doctor, slouched against a nearby gravestone, looking smug.

"Still," he continued, "least this time you left the rocket launcher behind."

Buffy turned away, gritting her teeth. Pulling herself together. Of course. The First. What had just happened. It all fit. A pattern.

"You can't fool me," she muttered at the leather-jacketed man, and stalked off.

This wasn't real. None of this. She didn't know what it was, but she knew how the First operated. The First could pull out every illusion in the books, could fiddle with your emotions and make you scared enough to kill yourself, but the First couldn't step inside the world and mess around with it like this. And the First _definitely _couldn't travel in time.

(Right?)

Buffy pushed aside the sudden flood of thoughts reminding her that the First _had_ managed to do exactly that, with the help of a number of trans-temporal rifts and an insane anti-matter Time Lord, but… no. No, this wasn't real. Couldn't be. If the First could do this, it'd have done it at the start of this mess.

She left the graveyard, and headed home.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I didn't put in an Author's Note yesterday, because I wanted to launch right into the story. So I'm putting it here, instead.

I want to explain something about the way in which I wrote this story:

"Your Nature", much like "Don't Be", is primarily Buffy's story. It's told almost exclusively from Buffy's point of view. However, because so much of what's happening to Buffy is influenced by events and characters outside the main narrative, I didn't actually write it strictly from Buffy's point of view.

In short, "Your Nature" contains a very large number of deleted scenes.

These are scenes that I wrote without having any intention of putting them into the finished work. I wrote them so that I, as the author, would be able to keep track of what was going on outside the narrative, so that when these characters and events actually came up in the narrative, I could make the reactions and interactions of the other characters fit.

I'm hoping to post these deleted scenes at the end, in their own separate story, in case anyone's interested.

One more thing.

The sections in this story will be pretty uneven in terms of length. The story naturally breaks at certain points, and sometimes, that makes the chapters a little short. But rest assured, you'll get it all eventually.

* * *

A part of Buffy had always known what would happen when she arrived home. Known all along. But… that still didn't stop her heart from falling onto the floor the moment she heard the voice echo through her house.

"Buffy?"

And then… _she_ appeared. Wearing her usual always supportive, always concerned face. Her hair pulled up. Her eyes searching, worried, but encouraging.

The word, "Mom," died on Buffy's lips.

It… wasn't her mom, of course. Her mom was dead. This was the First, again, just the way it always was these days. The First, in the shape of some dead person Buffy had loved and lost, playing its little mind games. Any second now, Buffy knew her mom would say something horrible and soul-crushing, something that showed the First's true malice.

Mom just frowned, slightly. "Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. That wasn't fair. Not at all. That was just rubbing it in.

"Dawn," Buffy said, pushing past her mom. "Just… need to find Dawn."

Needed to ground herself. Needed to confide in someone real, someone she knew. Someone who'd understand.

She clambered up the stairs.

"Find who?" asked Mom. She rested one hand against the banister. "Buffy, what are you talking about?"

Buffy ignored her. Just the First. Not Mom. Buffy just needed to find some way to stop this… nightmare or fantasy or dream or whatever this was, ground herself and get back to real life. She fixed her eyes on the ground just ahead of her, and almost ran the last few steps to Dawn's room. She yanked the door open, and burst inside, to find…

Buffy blinked. And blinked again.

It was an art studio.

Buffy charged into the room, looking around. Dawn _had been_ here, when she returned from this first adventure with the Doctor! Buffy remembered! Dawn had stolen Buffy's diary and was leafing through the pages, and the two of them had had a big fight and Buffy had nearly blurted out everything about the Doctor and the Watchers Council in a fit of anger. That was what had happened, five years ago! But here Buffy was, and… there was no bed, no diary, no nothing.

No Dawn.

"Buffy," came her mom's voice, as she appeared in the doorway. "What's gotten into you?"

"Dawn," Buffy said, trying to stop her voice from shaking. She advanced on this… _thing_ that wasn't her mother, giving it her darkest glare. "What did you do to her?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What did you do to my sister?!" Buffy almost screamed.

Mom seemed honestly confused for a moment. "You don't have…" Then her eyes lit up. "Oh, is this some sort of Slayer thing? Some code that you and your friends use?" She gave a small smile. "I'll let you take care of this by yourself, then. Just remember, I'm proud of you."

"You better tell me where Dawn is, or I'll…" Buffy started, but her mom had already shut the door, leaving her alone.

"She's not here," came a Northern English voice behind her. "Should have thought that was obvious."

Buffy spun around. Not alone, after all. For there was the man in the leather jacket, once more. The First.

"What did you do to her?" Buffy growled.

The leather jacketed man shrugged. "Didn't do anything _to_ her. She's not here because she doesn't exist."

"I remember her being here!" Buffy insisted. "She should be here! I remember…" She stopped, as a horrible chill ran through her body.

The Ninth Doctor pointed a finger at her. "Now you're getting it."

Buffy stared at the man in the room with her. "I remember Dawn being here, but… that's because of the monks implanting that memory in my head." What the Doctor had said — if he went back in his time machine, Dawn wouldn't exist. Even if Buffy remembered differently. And if Dawn didn't exist, here, if Mom didn't even know who Dawn was…

"This… is real," Buffy whispered.

"Yep."

"This isn't my imagination, or some dream, or a world extrapolated from my thoughts and memories," Buffy continued. "I've _actually_ gone back in time. It really is 1998, Mom's still alive, and the Doctor… he really did…"

The Ninth Doctor gave a much larger grin. "Yep. And… word of warning. You die here, you're dead for good. So… try to stay alive."

Buffy felt herself trembling. "You. You did this. You changed history."

The Ninth Doctor gave a small shrug. "Do that a lot. Bit of a meddler, me."

Buffy advanced on him. "Put it back," she said.

The Ninth Doctor thought it over a moment, then shook his head. "Nah."

"Put it back!" Buffy demanded, her voice approaching a shout. "Undo this! Right now!"

The Ninth Doctor appeared unaffected by her anger. "Can't."

Buffy seethed.

"What?" asked the Ninth Doctor. "You're the reason I'm here, you know." He gestured at the world around him. "Should have thought of this before you called me."

"I wasn't calling _you_," Buffy hissed. "I was calling _the Doctor_! The _real_ Doctor!"

"Yes, you were," the Ninth Doctor agreed. "Over and over again. The number of psychic paper messages you sent!" He stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. "Not that he got any of them. Sent to me, instead. Few crossed wires. Loose connection." He met her eyes with his own. "Messages said to come. Help. So I came."

Buffy glared at him. "I'm going to fix this," she said, as she spun around and marched towards the door. "Any way I can! I'm going to undo what you've just done!"

The Ninth Doctor's eyes lingered on Buffy as she left the room. She felt them on the back of her neck, boring into her as she departed.

"Stupid ape," he muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

It began just the way it had before. As if she were walking through a dream. Oz and Willow suddenly flagging her down, launching into an all-out discussion of SATs. As if that mattered at all. Then Xander and Cordelia (wait, Cordelia? Oh, yeah, she and Xander used to date, way back before Anya) tagging along, putting in their two cents.

Buffy didn't care. She didn't bother with small talk. She needed to find Giles and get to the bottom of this. Right now.

Then Xander rushed over to Principal Snyder, who thrust a box of chocolates into his hands.

"You didn't happen to be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past last night, did you?" Xander asked him, tucking the candy under an arm.

Snyder gave him a reprimanding look. "It's band candy."

Of course it was.

Everyone looked at Buffy, expecting her to make a snarky remark, but she didn't bother. She just brushed past.

Snyder thrust a box of chocolate in front of her, cutting off her escape. "You will sell it," he commanded, "to raise money for the marching band."

Buffy stepped out of the way of the chocolate box, and continued on towards the library.

"You're risking suspension, Miss Summers," Snyder warned. "Once your mother hears about all the little things I've been overlooking…"

Buffy stopped in her tracks. Her heart pounding.

"My mother," she repeated, the words ashy and tasteless in her mouth. The mother she'd buried, two years ago. The mother she'd lost.

"…you'll be grounded for the next century," Snyder concluded.

Buffy turned on him. "My mother," she said, her voice low but biting, "is dead. My sister doesn't exist. I'm being hunted by the essence of evil itself, my reality has just been completely rewritten, and the man I've been trying to find for the last two years just turned evil." She threw her hands into the air. "So go on! Suspend me. Ground me. Kick me out of school. I don't care!" She pointed a finger in his face. "But don't you come crying to me when you get swallowed by a giant snake at Graduation."

Willow, Xander, Oz, and Cordelia all stared at her, their jaws dropping to the floor. Buffy spun around, and headed towards the library.

"Buffy, wait!" Willow called, racing after her.

Buffy didn't.

Willow panted, trying to match pace with Buffy down the halls. "Look, I get that this whole… Angel thing was traumatic, and we want to be super supportive, but…"

Angel? Why were they so sure she was brooding about…?

Oh. Right. That whole… sending Angel to Hell thing had just happened in 1998, and she was still supposed to be traumatized over that. Except… no, wait, that was right. Angel had come back from Hell, and Buffy was nursing him back to life, and the current-her was supposed to be keeping it a secret.

She couldn't quite remember why.

"Angel's got nothing to do with this," said Buffy. "He's fine. He's returned from Hell, he's no longer evil, he's getting his strength back, and I've been hiding him out in that old mansion on Crawford Street. In a few months, he'll dump me, move to LA, start up Angel Investigations, and fight for the side of good. Angel's timeline hasn't changed."

Willow stumbled. "What?"

"Angel came back?" Xander cried.

Cordelia sighed. "We're going to have to kill him, again, aren't we?"

Buffy gave a small laugh, not stopping in her march towards the library. "Go ahead. I don't care."

Willow's jaw dropped. "You what?"

Buffy stopped, with a sigh, and turned around. "Right now, I'm facing a problem bigger than any of you can imagine," she said. "Bigger than even I can imagine. The Slayers are being hunted into extinction, the First is about to manifest inside of every person on Earth, and — to make matters worse — I've just been moved to another world where the First is practically guaranteed to succeed without so much as a fight. So, yeah! I don't care about you. Because none of you matter! None of you are even real!"

Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Oz all exchanged looks.

"Okay, then," said Xander, munching on some band chocolate. "So Buffy shot a time travelling alien with a tranquilizer gun, shipped him to England, went down into the sewers to disarm some bomb, and now… she's insane. Got it."

Willow glared at Buffy, hands on her hips. "What do you mean, we aren't real?"

"Right now, you're upstairs, cuddling with Kennedy," Buffy said to Willow. She turned to Oz. "You're long gone." She turned to Xander. "You just got knocked out by my sister, who drove you back to Sunnydale once she realized I was sending her somewhere safe for the final battle." She spun around to Cordelia. "And you're… evil, or… in a coma, or… I don't know! Something!" She faced them all. "That's the real world. All of you guys, this high school, this whole thing — it's a mistake. The moment I fix time and put things right again, anything that happens in this world, here and now, is going to get erased."

Xander just nodded, slowly. He gestured the Band Candy chocolate bar at Buffy. "And the winner of the crazy-o-thon goes to… Buffy!"

"She's not crazy," Willow insisted to the others. "She's just been bewitched by that evil Doctor guy!"

Buffy felt her throat close, as Willow mentioned the Doctor, and the breath suddenly left her lungs. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "_That_ sweater, with _that_ skirt?" she asked, pointing. "She's nuts."

"I thought you said nothing happened to Buffy after the Doctor left," Oz said to Willow.

"I didn't think so!" Willow insisted. "After Buffy came out of the sewers, she came to see us, and said that nothing had happened, and then she went off to study for SATs with…" Willow stopped herself, then frowned. "No, wait. That's not right. That didn't..."

"...actually happen," Buffy agreed. "That was what was _supposed_ to happen. In the correct timeline. But it didn't. Because time's changed. And now the universe is going to end unless I fix it."

Everyone looked at everyone else. Not sure whether to believe her, the same nervousness and worry on their faces.

Except for Cordelia.

"You're going to save the universe wearing _that_ outfit?" she asked.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. Then spun around, and ran off to the library.

From behind her, she could already hear the worried discussion. The voices trying to work out what had happened, what the Doctor had done to her, how hypnotized she was, and how they could counter-act it.

Back to this.

Back to those days when the Doctor was considered a monster. Back to the days when even Angel's existence was Buffy's little secret. Back to the days when she was in school, her mother was still alive, and the Mayor was plotting his Ascension.

Except she _wasn't_.

Buffy wasn't fighting the Mayor. She wasn't fighting Mr. Trick, or trying to convince Faith to become good again, or trying to nurse Angel back to health. This wasn't her world, wasn't her battle. She was Buffy Anne Summers, 22 years old, from the year 2003, and she was fighting the First Evil. The origins of everything dark and deadly in the universe.

The being who had just completely shifted reality.

Her friends could form an angry mob and kill Angel. Or all drive themselves crazy with Band Candy and let Lucronis eat all the babies from the hospital. Or help the Mayor ascend! Whatever! As soon as Buffy fixed things, all this was going to get erased. They weren't real, this didn't matter, this wasn't… anything! At all!

Buffy burst into the library. "Giles!"

Giles was nowhere to be seen. Buffy racked her brain, trying to remember what Giles had been up to, at this particular moment in time. But that had been so long ago. An entire lifetime ago! How was she supposed to remember something like that?

"Great," said Cordelia. "Buffy's flipped her lid, we're off to kill something, and Xander is eating all my band candy." She frowned, as she examined her hands. "And the worst thing is, my nail polish is chipping."

"As long as we've got our priorities straight," Oz muttered.

Buffy rushed forwards, into the center of the library. "Giles!" she called.

"Buffy, just… wait a second," Willow urged, racing after her and catching her by the elbow. "I mean, tell us what's going on. What happened last night?"

"What happened last night," said Buffy, tugging her elbow away and turning on Willow, "is the last five years of my life. I've been vaulted five years into my own past, so that the First Evil could alter reality and make himself the supreme ruler of everything. Not just the world. Not just the universe! Everything! All of time and space!"

Willow just stared at Buffy, blankly.

"Yep," said Xander, pointing a half-eaten candy bar at Buffy. "She's been brainwashed."

Buffy almost began ranting at them about the Doctor not being a brainwashy alien, but didn't. Why bother? They weren't real. Xander leaned down to take another bite out of the candy bar, and Buffy snatched it out of his hands and threw it into the trash.

"I'm not brainwashed," Buffy hissed. "I'm twenty-two years old."

"Now there's a coincidence," came a smooth voice from behind them.

Buffy and the others swung around, to find Angel with a smug grin on his face, standing by the bookcases, arms akimbo. His malicious eyes were fixed squarely on Buffy.

"Angel?" Willow squeaked.

"Evil Angel," Xander corrected, pulling Willow back. "Angelus."

"Falling out of the sky," said Angel to Buffy, stepping down the stairs towards her, "at age 22, being forced to resume your old life as if no time had passed at all. Not caring about anyone. Not sure of your own identity. Sounds familiar."

"Can we just stake him already?" Cordelia complained.

Buffy's eyes lingered on the form of Angel. She knew who this really was. "The First."

The First stepped forwards, shifting and morphing into the form of Kendra Young. "You think you are a force for good. But I've seen your darkness."

"Yeah, I got that speech from Dracula, thanks," said Buffy. "And FYI? I'm not Elizabeth. I know what she did, I know what happened to her, and I've chosen a different path."

"Because you would not kill the Doctor," said Kendra — no, not Kendra. The First. "Not even when you should have. Not even when he asked you to."

"And I won't," Buffy agreed. "Ever."

The form of Kendra Young gave a sharp, dissonant laugh. "You make a choice like that, and think it has no consequences?"

Buffy's heart skipped a beat. But she calmed herself. "When I undo this…"

"There's nothing to undo," said Kendra. "This is real. Actions have consequences." She stepped forwards again and morphed into the Master, his vampire fangs glistening with her own blood. "The Doctor told you what to do, if he fell into my power. He trusted you. And you failed him." The First then morphed into Jenny Calendar. "Just like you failed me. When you didn't kill Angel. You let him go, in that shopping mall. And because of that, he chased me down and snapped my neck. Do you remember that?" She took a step forwards, and leaned down towards Buffy. "Do you remember killing me?"

Buffy gave the First a dark look. "You can't break me that easily."

The First morphed into a blond cricketer, with floppy hair and a pleasant English-accented voice. "No, I daresay you don't break easily. Not as easily as the Doctor. A few dead family members from his past, a few whispered words and cheap promises, and he became mine. My servant. The architect of my new world. And the most amazing thing is — he doesn't even think it's wrong."

Buffy said nothing.

The First turned into Billy Fordham — her Fourth Grade crush. "Give it up, Buff," he said. "The battle's already over. You lost. No need to keep on fighting."

Buffy's anger flashed through her. "I'll never—"

But she didn't get the chance to finish. For at that moment, the image of Billy Fordham folded into the air and disappeared, as Giles entered the library, his head bent down in thought, his brow creased in consternation. He looked up, as he saw them.

"Ah, Buffy," he said, rushing towards her. "I was hoping I'd find you here. I have a few… concerns. About last night." He paused, as he noticed the others. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"Buffy's gotten hypnotized, Angel's still alive, some evil thing that changes shape just folded into midair, and I've got chipped nail polish," Cordelia explained. She waved the nails in question in front of Giles. "See? Completely ruined."

"That wasn't Angel," said Buffy. "Or Kendra. Or… any of the other people! That was the First Evil. A non-corporeal, all-powerful entity from before the dawn of time."

"Uh-huh," said Xander. "So, you're saying this… non-corporeal-evil-from-before-the-dawn-of-time is real, but _we're_ not?"

"And you're completely fine with us running off and killing Angel," Willow continued, "or getting killed ourselves. But for some reason, you're really worried about the fate of this super-evil Doctor guy. Who you just shot, last night."

Giles blinked. "Sorry, we're… not real?"

"That's not what I meant!" said Buffy. "You're… real, you just… I mean… it doesn't matter what happens to you guys."

"Because you're planning to erase us," Oz said.

"No, because…" Buffy sighed. "Never mind. Look, Giles, I've got to talk to you. It's important."

Giles tried to hide the thoroughly flustered look on his face. "Of… course."

Xander, noticing Giles' unease, took sympathy on him, and offered him a chocolate bar. Giles took it, gratefully, and began to unwrap it.

Buffy snatched it out of Giles' hand. "This is serious, Giles!" she snapped, throwing it away in the trash can. "I'm not the Buffy Summers you knew! I'm from 2003. Time's gotten pulled back and reversed, and I've got to fix the timeline before history completely unravels. I need you to help me!"

Giles nodded, slowly. "Yes, yes, of course," he muttered, edging away from her.

Buffy stared at him. "You don't believe me," she realized. "You think I'm bewitched."

"You _are_ talking pretty crazy," said Xander.

"And you've stopped caring about people," Willow added.

"And we've already seen evidence that there's an evil shape-changing monster running around," Oz said.

Buffy felt the world freeze around her. They… her friends… they really thought…?

Buffy shook her head. "No, no, look!" she said, pacing the room. "Imagine there was another world out there. A world where everything was exactly the same as this one, except there was no shrimp. You wouldn't know you were in another world, or even that shrimp should have existed at all, unless you met the person who'd been in the world with shrimp, and…"

"And you're saying we're shrimp," said Xander. "And you're erasing us all so you can have your magical, shrimp-free world where everything's perfect."

"No, I'm not… look, things are bad!" Buffy insisted. "Time's changed, the Doctor's working for the First, and — you've got no idea just how bad that is!"

Giles took off his glasses, sitting down at the table of the library. "I've got a fair idea."

Buffy felt her heart thud a little faster.

"I've just gotten off the phone with Quentin Travers," Giles continued. "The Doctor has escaped from the Watchers Council. And they seem certain that Buffy was there. Helping him."

Everyone looked at one another. Then at Buffy. They all edged away from her.

Buffy sighed. She remembered this conversation.

"Okay," said Buffy. "And this is when I say, 'But Giles, the Doctor didn't actually do anything bad after he broke out of the Watchers Council,' and you say, 'Well, not yet, but he will, because he's evil,' and then I say—"

"Torchwood London is gone," said Giles.

Buffy stopped talking. "What?"

"Torchwood," said Willow. "That's… the… government agency designed to protect the world from the Doctor, right?"

Giles nodded. "There were four branches. Now there are three. Last night, the Doctor murdered every single Torchwood employee in London. Then destroyed the Torchwood headquarters at Canary Wharf. No one survived."

Everyone gaped.

Giles faltered. "Except… one person."

Oh, Buffy could guess who that was, right away. "Jack Harkness?"

Hard to kill someone who didn't die.

"The Council discovered him locked in their basement, in the prison they'd created for the Doctor," said Giles. "He was alive. Unharmed. Not a scratch on him. And unable to recall how he'd gotten there."

Buffy slumped. Poor Jack. She'd completely forgotten about him. Even in her own timeline, he must have come back to life feeling lost and confused, unable to understand what was going on or why he was there.

"Why?" asked Willow. "Why leave him alive, after killing everyone else?"

"The Council's been trying to understand that themselves," said Giles. "They have questioned him for some time, now, but he refuses to give them any information concerning the Doctor."

"And Torchwood's the only thing protecting the world from the Doctor, right?" asked Xander. "So this whole world has just turned into a Super-Surgery-Tuesday for Doctor-Guy over there."

"Can't be Tuesday," Buffy muttered. "Dawn hasn't gotten into trouble yet."

Xander gave her a blank look, and Buffy waved it away.

(Trying to stifle the emptiness in her heart, where Dawn should be.)

"I know this Doctor guy is the Angel of Death, but… Buffy can beat him, right?" Willow asked. "You said…"

"I thought Buffy just said she wouldn't kill him," Oz put in. "Ever."

Everyone turned to stare at Buffy.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. "I can't."

"So… you're the Slayer, and you're _not_ slaying Mr. Evilness?" Xander asked.

"The Doctor _isn't _evil…" Buffy hesitated. "I mean, he _is_ evil, now, but he wasn't evil, before, and…" She cursed, inwardly, as she realized that this wasn't actually helping. "…and this isn't important! Time's gotten changed, and I have to change it back! This isn't the right timeline!"

Once again, completely blank faces around her.

And Buffy had a horrible, sinking feeling in her chest, as she realized… they'd never work it out.

She spun around, to race out of the library, then hesitated. Ran back. Grabbed the boxes of band candy out of Xander, Willow, Oz, and Cordelia's arms, then dumped them in the trash.

"Don't eat the candy," she said, as she left the library.


	4. Chapter 4

Buffy sat on the steps to her old high school, cradling her head in her hands, trying to soothe a pounding headache.

"Don't take it too hard," came a Northern English accent. "Humans. Sometimes, they're fantastic. Other times, mind-numbingly stupid."

Buffy didn't say anything.

"Course, didn't help any, telling them they weren't real," he continued. "Going to be erased. Bit heartless, that. Cruel."

Buffy kept staring at the ground. "I'm not heartless. I'm not other-me."

"No, you're not," the Ninth Doctor agreed. "Elizabeth _cared_ about people. Went crazy and killed them, yes. But inside, she still cared."

"I care about the real world," said Buffy, getting to her feet. She gave the First an angry glare. "Not this… altered timeline! Not your little mind games!"

The Ninth Doctor folded his arms across his chest. "Tried that, myself, right after the war," he mused. "Not caring. Timeline was wrong. Would always be wrong, with the Time Lords gone and the current authorities being what they were. Just thought — what did it matter? Who was I to fight back?" His face fell. "Worst mistake of my life, that was."

Buffy bunched her hands into fists. "That wasn't _you_. That was the Doctor. You were all… being evil at the time!"

"Hard to remember not to care, though," the Ninth Doctor continued. He glanced over at her. "Isn't it?"

Buffy was about to retort something, but stopped. "Wait, what?"

The Ninth Doctor gave her a grin. "You still didn't let them eat the candy."

Buffy said nothing.

The Ninth Doctor's countenance shifted, turning grave and ashen. "A war is starting, here," he told her. "A war you've already lived through. You know how it'll end. Question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to stop you," said Buffy. "Put this right."

"Hard thing, knowing the future," the Ninth Doctor continued, ignoring her. "Seeing the ripples of time. One little change, one small request, and everything could shift. Whole new world, all at once. Bit of a nudge in the wrong direction, and repercussions might be enormous."

Small request. One wish. And a different world.

Oh, of course!

Anya!

Anya was a vengeance demon; she changed timelines all the time. She'd know exactly what Buffy was talking about with different timelines, and how to change this timeline retroactively. She'd know how to get Buffy's world back to the way it was supposed to be. All Buffy had to do was run over to her apartment and…

Wait.

She wasn't here, yet, was she?

Buffy racked her brain for the memory. Anya was still about a month away from arriving in Sunnydale. She was still wandering around the world. Still cursing men and fulfilling women's wishes. Still a demon. Still…

Still able to change timelines.

Buffy turned, and began to run back to the library, but stopped. No, asking Giles if he knew how to summon a vengeance demon was a bad idea. He and the Scoobies would probably take that as confirmation that the Doctor had bewitched her. Or worse. No way would Giles believe that Buffy would do something so crazy and chaotic as summoning a vengeance…

Oh.

Buffy bit her lip, then turned and raced out of the school. She was going to hate herself for doing this, but dangerous times called for dangerous allies, and the most important thing was correcting the timeline. To do that, she needed the one person who knew how to summon creatures of chaos. The one who was currently in town, distributing drugged band candy.

She needed Ethan Rayne.

* * *

The factory was churning with workers, all producing the drugged-up chocolate. Buffy flipped and kicked her way through the guards, until she got to the inside, and found her target. A tall, thin man in a wine colored button down collared shirt.

"Ethan Rayne," said Buffy, as she stopped in front of him, her arms crossed.

Ethan froze, his eyes locked on Buffy. He hesitated, then spun around and bolted.

Buffy caught him in two strides, and cornered him against a stack of chocolate boxes. He struggled in her grip, but she held him fast.

"Listen, this… this really wasn't my idea!" Ethan protested. "I can explain."

"Explain that you're using drugged chocolate to make all the adults in Sunnydale act like teenagers, so the Mayor can sweep in and steal all the babies from the hospital, and offer them as a tribute to some sewer creature called Lucronis?" Buffy asked.

Ethan blinked at her. Gob-smacked.

"Yeah," said Buffy. "I know everything you're planning. And everything about the Mayor's ascension into the demon Olvikan. So here's the deal. You help me with my problem, and I overlook this whole drugged chocolate thing, and let you live."

Ethan gave an uneasy laugh. "You expect me to believe you'll actually kill me?" he said. "I'm human. You're the Slayer. You can't touch me."

Buffy grabbed Ethan by his collar, and thrust him against the side of the boxes. "Wanna risk it?"

Ethan's eyes widened, as he caught the glimpse of the darkness that lay inside of Buffy. The dark ruthlessness of someone fighting a war against a force of pure evil with every odd stacked against her. The destructive coldness of someone who'd died for her cause, and then been forced back to life so she could return, once more, to the front lines.

"What… what do you need help with?" he asked.

Buffy released her grip, and smiled at him. "Vengeance."


	5. Chapter 5

"If this works," said Ethan, as Buffy brushed the twigs and foliage into the magical caldron, "I'd just like to say that you're a terribly nice person and I've absolutely nothing against you. Or Ripp—I mean, your lovely Watcher, Rupert Giles."

Buffy ignored him. "Anyanka," she called out, as she picked up another set of magical herbs, and began breaking them into the pot. "I beseech thee, in the name of all women scorned, come before me!"

Buffy waited, expecting some sort of huge wind to blow up in her face, or a big magical burst to appear before her, but nothing happened.

"You called?" came a raspy voice behind Buffy.

Buffy spun around, and discovered Anya, her hair still auburn, her visage still demony, her eyes still piercing, inhuman, and cold.

From a short ways away, Ethan gave a small "eep!" Then ran away.

Buffy let him.

"Yeah," said Buffy, dusting the extra powder and herbs off her hands. "Yeah, I did. Because I want vengeance. Serious vengeance. Against a man I loved, who wronged me."

"Then I will avenge you," said Anya. "Who has wronged you, and what has he done?"

"He's…" Buffy hesitated. She remembered Anya's fear of Time Lords, and of the Doctor in particular, and decided that it was probably better not to mention who this actually was. "…this… doctor I met. We were in love. We slept together. Then he just… left me. And never came back."

Anya took the necklace from around her neck, and placed it around Buffy's own. The brilliant green gemstone glimmered in the dull light. "Then wish," she said. "And I will make your wish come true."

Buffy took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment she needed.

"I wish," she said, "that on November 8th, 1998, at exactly 3:55 pm, I managed to get him to swallow the vial of Vamp-Away before he turned evil. I wish that — at that moment — I saved his life."

Anya stopped, and stared at Buffy, her demon-face morphing back into her human one. "That's it?" she shouted.

Buffy winced.

"This complete jerk!" said Anya. "He used you, then ditched you and wandered off, probably to sleep with some ditz he just met, and you want to _save_ _his life_?"

"Yes."

"Do you even understand what the word 'vengeance' means?" Anya shouted. "If it were me, I'd tie him up in a basement with no light, torture him until he couldn't bear it anymore, then make him slowly bleed to death while telling him exactly what a bastard he was! And just before he died, I'd turn him into something really, really nasty!"

"Good thing I'm not you," Buffy muttered.

"He's some two-faced jerk who wronged you!" Anya reminded her. "Why the hell would you want to save his life?"

"Excuse me, but _I'm_ the wronged woman making the wish, here!" Buffy reminded Anya. "You have to grant my wish, no matter what it is."

Anya sighed. "All right! Fine!" Her face shifted back into the wrinkly demonic countenance she'd worn before. In a gravelly, powerful voice, she said, "It is done!"

A gust of wind surged through the room, and the light turned white around Buffy, the world feeling tingly and tickly against her fingers. And then…

The shattering sound of glass echoed through Buffy's ears.

"No!" shouted Anya, as the light faded. Her face was now back to its human visage, and she was staring, in horror, at the necklace that hung around Buffy's neck.

Buffy looked down at her neck, to find the green gemstone in the necklace had shattered, leaving only a gold outline of a casing where it had once been set.

Buffy glanced around herself. At the warehouse filled with drugged chocolate bars. At 1998. At the wrong timeline.

"I'm… I'm human!" shouted Anya. "I'm…" She stared at Buffy, her eyes growing wide, a spark of true fear burning inside of them. A fear that Buffy had only ever seen when Anya had been faced with bunnies.

"You," Anya whispered, in horror. She backed away from Buffy. "Who are you?"

Buffy took the necklace off, and held it out to Anya. "The spell… didn't work, did it?"

"Who are you?" Anya demanded, not taking the necklace. "What are you? What have you done?"

The breath left Buffy's lungs, as she heard the echo of the Doctor's own words, from back when he'd first turned evil, back in the TARDIS. "What have _I_…?"

Anya pointed a finger at Buffy. "You did this," she said, her voice shaking. "It was you. It had to be you."

"Huh?"

"What are you?" Anya shouted. "Humans can't do this kind of thing! A human could never…" She suddenly shuddered back. "You're a Time Lord."

"No, I didn't create this world!" said Buffy. "I didn't change time! It was the First! He sent me back here, and did something to time, and now…"

"_You_ did something to time," Anya gritted through her teeth. "I felt it, when the necklace shattered. Whatever happened to time, it happened the moment you arrived in this timeline. You caused this, Buffy Summers."

"No, I didn't! And I'm going to change it back!" Buffy insisted. "I just need to switch the timeline! Make sure the Doctor survives! Then the world will be back to normal, I can go home, and—"

"There are no other timelines!" Anya retorted. She snatched the shattered necklace and waved it in front of Buffy. "That's what this means. Layers and layers of temporal flux throughout the universe, and you've wiped them all away!"

Buffy stared. "What?"

"I'm stuck here," said Anya, throwing the necklace onto the floor. "A human being! But you know what? So are you. I can't change reality. You can't change reality. No one can change reality. Because this is the only reality left. Whatever world you came from…" Anya stepped on the necklace with her foot, crushing it into the ground. "It's gone. Forever."

A cold chill ran down Buffy's spine. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was, "…not real…"

"It's real now," Anya retorted. "Whatever you did, you made this world real. The only world there is. The only timeline." She pouted. "And I'm human! How sucky is that?"

Buffy felt her breath coming shorter and shorter, as she realized what this meant. That she could never go home. That this world was the only world, now. That these versions of Willow, Xander, Giles, Anya, and Angel were the only versions that existed.

And anyone who died here… would stay dead.

Even babies.

Buffy turned, and ran.


	6. Chapter 6

"Buffy," Willow called, running to catch up. "Buffy, there's something wrong with the adults! They've all started behaving like teenagers, and…"

"It's a distraction!" Buffy shouted back, shoving a manhole cover off the street, and rushing down the rungs into the sewer. "Ethan's already called the Mayor and told him I've figured out everything, the Mayor's advanced his plans, and the babies are about to be Snake-Food!"

Willow tried to catch her breath. "Wait, what?"

"Just come on!" Buffy shouted, as she flipped off the ladder and thudded down into the sewer, her feet already in a run the moment they hit the floor.

A rumble through the sewer pipes. The distant hiss. Buffy had been right. The babies were already here. Lucronis was coming. And if those babies died, if they actually were eaten…

Real. All of it. Real.

Buffy sprinted through the sewer tunnels, towards the spot she knew, the spot she remembered, the spot where they had taken the babies. The spot that was filled with chanting vampires and crying babies.

"Buffy, wait!" cried Willow, stumbling to catch up. "What's going on? What do you mean, babies? What does the Mayor have to do with it?"

Buffy didn't have time to explain. She turned the last corner, and lunged out for the Mayor, who was busy talking on his cell phone with his secretary, discussing the sanitation of sewer pipes. The Mayor's eyes widened, and he stumbled back, but Buffy never reached him, anyways. She was intercepted by three brown-robed vampires, who pulled her away from her target.

Buffy twisted around, knocking one back and shoving another against the side of the sewer, but the third shoved an arm around her throat, and pulled her back towards him.

Willow emerged into the area, her face illuminated by the many candles that littered the area.

"Will!" Buffy shouted, as she tossed the vampire restraining her over her head. "The babies!"

Willow darted forwards, and ran for the babies, as Buffy swung her fist out to catch one vampire, ducking a blow from a second. She kicked out and somersaulted through the air, kicking the third in the head and landing on her feet. She whipped the stake out of her pocket, and slid past the vampire lunging for her, swiveling around and staking him through the back. He cried out, and crumbled into dust.

Her wrist was grabbed by the vampire behind her, and she used the momentum of his actions against him, driving his own attack forwards, until her stake made contact with his heart, and he crumbled into dust.

One more. Buffy spun about, faking him out, making him think that he was taking her down, letting herself fall, before turning the tables. Spinning him around so his back was to the floor, stake in hand, and hitting him right through the heart.

She fell to the ground with a small, "oomph."

The rumbling echo through the sewer tunnels reminded her that she didn't have time for any self pity, didn't have time for anything at all. She climbed back to her feet. "Willow, you got…?"

She trailed off, as she caught sight of what had happened while she'd been fighting the Mayor's vampire body-guards.

Willow was being held by a number of salivating, green-skinned vampires, who looked like they could barely keep their teeth off of her. But at one gesture from the man beside them, they restrained themselves, their fear evident.

The man beside them.

The one in the pinstripe suit. The one with the spiky brown hair and tan trench coat. The one now leaning over the stone cradle that held the crying babies, his dark brown eyes illuminated by the candlelight, as he stared at her.

"Buffy Summers."

Buffy felt something inside her shatter, as she saw him again. The Doctor. Full of malice, of cold and ice and death, full of something dark and deadly and more powerful than she could imagine.

She glared at him, her voice quiet, yet sharp and biting enough to penetrate the rumble of the sewer. "Doctor."

The hissing roar of Lucronis' approach, but neither Buffy nor the Doctor took note. They just stood there, staring at one another.

Buffy stepped forwards, her stake raised. "I swear, if you don't let Willow and these kids go, I'll—"

"Buffy Summers," the Doctor repeated. He looked her up and down. "Buffy Anne Summers."

Buffy braced herself for that telepathic brush of emotions that resonated through her whenever he said her name, but there was nothing. Nothing at all.

"The Slayer," the Doctor continued, stepping around the crying children, and towards Buffy. "The victim of circumstance. The One-Girl-In-All-The-World. Manipulated, used, thrown into a war she should never have been part of. She shot me, then came back for me. Tried to save me. Dragged me back to the TARDIS, promised to kill me if the possession took hold." He arched an eyebrow. "Then _you_ stepped in. Appeared in her place. And time changed."

Buffy said nothing. She kept glancing over at Willow, who was terrified, trying to speak but unable to, the Uber-Vamps silencing her with their green-skinned claws.

"Who are you?" the Doctor whispered, as he approached Buffy. His eyes gleamed in the candlelight, with something besides hate and anger and malice.

Curiosity.

"Buffy," Buffy insisted. "I'm Buffy." She heard her voice trembling, and cleared her throat, thrusting her emotions down below that shell of hardness she'd built up. She wasn't a kid anymore. This was just like killing Angel. She'd done it before, she could do it again. Wouldn't even look twice, when she was done. "Let Willow and the babies go, Doctor. Now."

The rumbling hiss, and a screech, as Lucronis burst into the room, his snakelike body twisting and writhing through the air, his eyes glowing with greed and hunger the moment he spotted the babies. He surged towards them, and Buffy shoved past the Doctor, darting for Lucronis. She knew what to do. Grab for the gas piping at the top of the sewer tunnel, ignite it using a nearby torch, and fry Lucronis alive.

Except… there wasn't a handy gas pipe pointed where she needed it. Not this time.

She grabbed the torch, and darted towards Lucronis, who slithered out of the way and hissed at her, its fangs pointy and venomous. In an instant, it swiped its tail around and caught Buffy up at the end, lifting her into the air, her torch dropping to the ground as it fell from her hands.

Willow gave a muffled shriek, trying to pull free and help her friend.

Buffy arched an eyebrow at Lucronis, as it dragged her closer and closer to its mouth. It regarded her, hungrily, but hesitated, thinking the matter over.

Either Lucronis was too young to figure out what was poisonous and what wasn't, or Lucronis was really stupid.

"Go on," Buffy urged. "Eat me. Swallow me whole! Nice, tasty Slayer main course, and _then_ you can have the babies for desert."

Lucronis howled, and opened his jaws, ready to consume Buffy, when a blur of brown pinstripes raced down along the floor, and suddenly, Lucronis' head jerked away from Buffy, distracted by the object the Doctor had just tossed into the air. No, not an object. Someone that was screaming, crying.

Oh, God, it was a baby.

Lucronis darted out, dropping Buffy onto the ground, his jaws snapping up the baby and swallowing it down in one gulp. Then, Lucronis turned his head to look at who'd just thrown the snack, and froze.

As he noticed the Doctor, for the first time.

The moment he saw the Doctor, he flinched away, fear trembling through his body. The exact same fear that Buffy had seen running through the green skinned Uber-Vamps restraining Willow. Then, faster than Buffy had thought possible, Lucronis turned and slithered away into the sewer tunnels, fleeing for his life.

Buffy jumped back to her feet, and began to race after him, but felt an icy hand catch her wrist and pull her back. She turned, and there was the Doctor, holding her back, his face grave and serious, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that burned.

She tried to yank her hand away, anger coursing through her veins, passion flooding through every part of her body, but he held her fast.

"Come with me," he whispered.

Buffy stopped. Stared. "Huh?"

"Come with me," he repeated.

Buffy wrenched her hand away from him, and stepped back. She felt a shiver run through her at the very thought. He'd been willing to kill a baby, and felt no remorse at all. He knew every weakness of the Slayer, every weakness of Buffy's, and he was clever enough to manipulate all of it for his own ends.

Whatever he wanted her for, it wasn't good.

She looked over at Willow, still restrained, still in the grasp of the Uber-Vamps. At the babies, still crying and howling. His hostages.

"And… if I don't," said Buffy, "what happens?"

The Doctor glanced back over his shoulder, disinterest on his face as he noticed Willow's suffering. He turned back to Buffy. "Nothing."

Buffy gave a dry laugh. "Okay, what really?"

The Doctor snapped his fingers, and the Uber-Vamps released Willow, retreating back into the sewer tunnels and disappearing into the shadows.

"Nothing," he said. "It's your choice."

Buffy felt her heart pounding. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you are Buffy Summers," he said, stepping in closer to her. "Different, but the same inside. And I've seen your soul."

Buffy edged back, instinctively, and he let her.

"One day," he said, softly, "you will decide to come with me. One day, you will turn your back on your friends, family, and duty, and help me in my purpose. And you will choose to do it."

He swept out a hand, knocking back Willow, who'd been sneaking up behind him, and sending her tumbling to the ground. He turned, not even sparing Willow a second glance, and began to walk away.

Buffy found herself transfixed to the spot, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

"One day," the Doctor called back to her, "Buffy Anne Summers. You'll help me."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: In case you're wondering, when Buffy says she's "harboring five", the five I'm thinking about (which she is harboring, in 2003) are: Willow, Faith, Anya, Andrew, and Spike (I know Spike never actually tried to end the world, voluntarily, but he has been under the First's control in the past).

* * *

"Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not following," said Giles, the next day. He kept putting a hand up to his head, as if he were trying to overcome some tremendous headache. "Are you really, honestly, and sincerely telling me that you spoke to him? Had a reasonable, civil conversation with him, and even allowed him to help you, without once savagely beating him until he could barely stand? _Him_? The origin of all evil, the bane of existence itself?"

Buffy sighed. "You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"Ethan Rayne!" Giles repeated. "Ethan bloody Rayne! You asked for help and consultation, and never once beat the living daylights out of him!"

"I was just trying to fix things," said Buffy. "Set everything right."

"By summoning a vengeance demon!" Giles continued.

"Bring back evil-maniac-killing-machine vampire boyfriend from Hell," said Xander. "Acceptable! Let Alien-Guy-Possessed-By-The-Origin-Of-All-Evil go, no problem! But collaborate with Ethan Rayne… and now you're in for it."

"To be fair," Oz threw in, "the evil alien did let Willow go. And he saved Buffy's life."

"No, he saved Lucronis' life," Willow put in. "If Lucronis had eaten Buffy, it would have poisoned itself, and then thrown Buffy up. She would have been fine, and Lucronis would have been dead. Instead, the Doctor killed a baby to save Lucronis — and didn't think twice about that baby once he was done."

"Why on Earth would you want to summon a vengeance demon?" Giles demanded of Buffy. "Do you realize what you could have done?"

"I had to fix time!" Buffy shouted back. "I thought she was the only way I could!"

"Can we get back to the fact that, for a few weeks, now, Buffy's been secretly harboring a murderer who tried to kill all her friends and end the world?" Cordelia put in. "Because I've got a problem with that."

"More like harboring five," Buffy muttered, before she could stop herself.

Everyone stared at her.

"Except… that hasn't happened, yet," Buffy continued, a little nervously. Stupid 2003 stuff she could still remember. She shook her head. "And anyways, Angel's not the problem here!"

"Way I see it," put in Faith, "the big problem is that you don't know what side you're on."

Buffy glared at Faith. That really smarted, coming from her. "I'm on your side," she said. "I just know the future. I know what's going to happen, because I've seen all of this before. Everything I'm doing now makes sense, if you have the right perspective."

"Secretly harboring someone that tried to destroy the world, last year?" Willow asked.

"Refusing to kill an evil alien we know is out to destroy us all?" Oz added.

"Throwing away our band candy?" Cordelia put in.

"Collaborating with Ethan Rayne to summon a vengeance demon?" Giles said.

Buffy said nothing. What could she say? It all made sense in hindsight. It just didn't make sense right now. And there was way too much complicated temporal stuff to explain to these guys all the ways in which this made sense.

"Where's the Doctor, now?" Xander asked Giles.

Giles waved his hand. "Destroying the remaining branches of Torchwood, from what I can gather. Torchwood Four was destroyed earlier this morning."

Willow frowned. "But the Doctor was just here! In Sunnydale! And Buffy fried his TARDIS."

"I jammed the coordinates," Buffy corrected. "The only places he can go are here and England. As long as he's headed for one of those two spots, the trip will take him less than a second."

"What about this Mayor guy B was talking about?" Faith asked, leaning back against a table in the center of the library. She fiddled with a stake, in her hand. "Sounds like a pretty Big Bad. Maybe I should go after him. Take him out."

"No!" Buffy said, snatching the stake away from her. Then she realized everyone else was staring at her, and she shuffled awkwardly. "It's just… the Mayor's human." She fixed her eyes on Faith. "And we don't kill humans."

Faith gave Buffy her uncomfortable brushing-things-off shrug. "Sounds to me like you won't kill _anything_," she pointed out. "The First Evil. Angel. The Mayor. Baby-eating demons." She raised her eyebrows at Buffy. "The Doctor."

Buffy didn't answer. She just gave Faith her most reprimanding glare, and said, again, "We don't kill humans."

"I'm not entirely clear we can kill the First, even if we wanted to," said Giles. "According to Buffy, the First is an entirely non-corporeal manifestation of an evil beyond our understanding. One who appears in the guise of dead persons."

"I don't get why this First thing is so scary, anyways," said Faith. "I thought you said it couldn't touch anything. Or reach in to affect the world around it."

"It just destroyed every other reality besides this one, changed history, and sent me back in time, all because of a conversation," Buffy said. "Believe me, this thing's dangerous. And now that it's got the Doctor, Caleb's going to seem like a walk in the park."

"But why strike out now?" asked Willow. "You said yourself that the First did some time travel portal thing. If it could have chosen any time in history, why this particular moment?"

"Because the balance shifted. I died, and then you brought me back to…" Buffy stopped. And realized. "Except… that didn't happen, yet."

Willow blinked.

"Actually, that was me!" said Xander, waving a hand at Buffy. "Super CPR skills. Remember?"

Buffy crossed her arms, chewing on her lower lip. Willow was right. Why now? The Doctor only arrived in Sunnydale because the First was coming through. The First could have gotten the Doctor at any time. Why turn back the clock to this specific point in history?

"You're saying this thing wants to destroy you?" Giles clarified. "Destroy the Slayer Line entirely? Wipe out all of Earth's defenses, and let evil take over?"

Buffy paused for a long moment. Remembering. A time, so long ago, when she'd been swept away to the 39th century, and had been swept into a Dalek plot to do exactly this. Destroy the Slayer Line. Make sure that IPSA was born out of darkness and evil, instead of hope and light.

Except… they hadn't.

She remembered what the Doctor had told her, down in the sewer — that she would help him. She remembered learning about her other-self. And then she looked over at Faith.

And knew why the First had chosen now.

"No."

Giles massaged his forehead. "Sorry, I'm afraid I don't—"

"The First is like the Daleks," said Buffy. "I mean, I think. It doesn't just want to kill the Slayer. It wants to use the Slayer for itself."

"The what-leks?" asked Oz.

Buffy was just staring at Faith, a renewed determination flowing through her. "But it forgot. I know what's going to happen." She allowed a small smile to creep up her lips. "And I'm not going to let it happen again."

"Now where have I heard that before?" asked Jesse McNally, stepping out from behind the stacks.

Willow and Xander both gaped at the apparition before them. Their once-friend, who had died so long ago. Killed by the evil vampire known as the Master, almost the exact time Buffy had arrived in Sunnydale.

"Oh, yeah, I remember!" said Jesse. "That's exactly what other-you said, last time this happened. In _her_ 2003." He put his hands into his pockets. "But, of course, by trying to change it, she made it happen. That's the way it goes, man. In the end, evil wins."

"You don't remember that," said Buffy. "You were locked up, in the other timeline. You're reading the Doctor's memories."

"And what a read!" Jesse laughed. "Every way a Slayer's died. Every way she's been defeated. Every weakness, every problem, every fault in her training." He grinned at Buffy. "And here I was, thinking that taking over the Earth would require effort."

"Then why this obsession with Torchwood?" Giles asked. "If you wished to eliminate the Slayer, why not target the Watchers Council? Or the potential Slayers?"

"You heard about the balance between good and evil?" asked Jesse. "Well, I'm done with it." His eyes twinkled. "And with Torchwood gone, and the Doctor in my power — I never have to worry about the balance, again."

"Huh?" Xander asked. "What's Torchwood got to do with the balance?"

Jesse winked at them. "All you need to know," he said, "is that you're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do to stop it." Then he folded into the air, and vanished.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Okay, this might be one of my all time favorite scenes. I love it.

The line about Angel never being truly happy is taken from the end of "Paradox". I didn't explain it very well, in that story. I explain it better, here.

* * *

"The First Evil?" Angel asked Buffy. He shook his head. "I've never heard of it."

"Trust me, it's bad," said Buffy. "Non-corporeal. Totally evil. And unkillable." She chewed on her bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of her tee-shirt. "And it brought you back from Hell."

Angel stared at her. "What?"

"This thing is powerful, Angel," Buffy warned. "Powerful enough to reach in and tear you out of a sealed-off dimension. It's going to come after you, and it'll use all of your guilt and self-loathing against you, to try to force you to do its will. I know. I've seen it before."

Angel shifted, uneasily. "You… really do know the future," he said.

"As much as I remember about stuff that happened five years ago, to me," Buffy agreed. She sighed, and slumped a little. "And as far as any of that goes, now that time's changed and everything's different."

Angel said nothing for a long moment. "Buffy," he muttered, at long last. "There's something… you should know. About… the Doctor. And yourself."

"I'm a Line-Hopper," Buffy said. "You're from the alternate timeline where I never became the Slayer, changed my name to Elizabeth, and then went crazy and killed everyone by 2003. Except you think I was wonderful, in both timelines, because Elizabeth lied to you and blamed the Doctor for everything she did."

Angel was speechless.

"I told you," said Buffy. "I'm from the future."

"Elizabeth… wasn't crazy," Angel insisted. "She was just like you. She…"

"She was the one who cursed you," said Buffy.

Angel blinked. "She didn't—"

"Think about it, Angel!" Buffy urged him. "The Doctor didn't know the curse was even in there, until he saw what happened with Kendra. You didn't know. I didn't know. No one knew — except for one person. Elizabeth. Who warned you — way before the whole soul-losing thing happened — that you could never be truly happy."

Angel's voice failed him.

"You're right, though," said Buffy, a sad look in her eyes. "She _is_ just like me. I know that. So does the Doctor. Elizabeth and I are connected, and…" She looked off into the distance, and shuddered. "Sometimes, I just think… how long can I hold out? How long before the First gets to me, too?"

"Buffy," said Angel, "you can't just give up hope like—"

"I'm frightened, Angel," Buffy confessed. "I'm scared to death. The First — I've seen what it's done to the Doctor. It's completely broken him. Turned him from a force for good into someone who obliterates entire towns and doesn't even care. The Doctor's a fighter, Angel. You're not."

Angel went very still.

"No, I get it," said Buffy, as she began to pace the room. "You're a fighter, _now_. You fight because of Elizabeth. She inspired you to be better than you were, to be strong and fight for what is good and right. But... what are you going to do, when you realize your whole life's been spent emulating someone who was crazy? Who murdered an entire island without thinking it was wrong? Who killed off 38,000 people just to prove to one alien that he was a monster?"

"I… I fight for you," Angel said. "_You_ inspired me, Buffy. _This_ you."

Buffy turned on him. "And I'm Elizabeth! Don't you get it, Angel? I've seen the future! I know where this is heading! The Hellmouth, the Turok-Hans, the Bringers! This planet is going to be consumed by evil, and there's nothing we can do to stop it! We can't kill the First; we can't defeat it. It's non-corporeal. All we can do is surrender."

"We can't kill the First," said Angel. "But we can kill the First's servant. We can kill the Doctor."

Buffy glared at him. "No."

"Buffy, he's not—"

"I love him," said Buffy. She looked away. "I'm sorry, it's just… it's been five years for me, Angel. I don't love you anymore. I'm in love with him. The Doctor. And I can't kill him. No matter what."

Angel's face went pale, and his hands began trembling. "You… you don't…love me…"

"I don't," Buffy confirmed. She gave a small shrug. "I mean, I know I used to, but… the Doctor's just… amazing. And you? What are you, Angel? What have you ever done?"

Angel opened his mouth, but had nothing to say.

"You're not strong," said Buffy. "You're not a fighter. Not a hero. I can't rely on you. You're nothing to me."

"What are you doing?" came a voice from behind Buffy.

Angel looked up, to find, standing in the doorway of the mansion… Buffy Summers. A second Buffy Summers. Her arms crossed. Blue eyes blazing. A dark, angry expression on her face.

The Buffy closest to Angel gave a little smile. "Playing with a new toy." She looked down at herself. "You didn't think I'd work out that I could turn into you, and then not do anything with it, did you?"

"Buffy?" asked Angel, looking between the two Buffys in front of him.

"_I'm_ Buffy," said the Buffy by the door. She pointed at the Buffy in front of Angel. "_That's_ the First."

"Says who?" asked the Buffy near Angel.

The Buffy by the door stormed forwards, and shoved her hand through her non-corporeal other self. Then looked up at Angel. "See?"

The First gave a sly smile. "Okay, so I'm not Buffy," it confessed to Angel. "But everything I've told you so far is true. About Elizabeth. About yourself. About all of it." It pointed at the real Buffy. "And about her. She really doesn't love you anymore. She's in love with the Doctor."

Buffy glared at the First. "Get out."

Angel hesitated, his eyes wide, terrified.

"It's been almost a week, now, and you haven't once stopped by to see him," the First said to Buffy. "Too busy trying to find some way to get the Doctor back to normal. No time for Angel, anymore." The First turned back to Angel. "Not until you get worried he'll fall into my hands."

Buffy's glare turned icier. "I said get out."

"The Doctor fell," said the First, circling Angel. "And he was a fighter. How long before Angel the coward falls? How long before Angel the weak gives in and becomes a monster again?"

Buffy grabbed Angel, dragging him away from the First. "Ignore it," she instructed him. "It's not real."

The First gave a laugh, then folded into the air, and vanished.

Angel was shaking. "Buffy…"

Buffy put her hands on Angel's shoulders. "Angel. That wasn't me. That was the First. Everything it told you—"

"Was true," Angel said. He shuddered. "I'm not strong, Buffy. Not like you. Not like…" He faltered.

"You _are_ strong," Buffy corrected. "I believe in you. Back in 2003, in my reality, I just trusted you with the fate of the world, in case me and the Potential Slayers didn't…" She hesitated, then slumped. "Never mind. That reality's gone, now."

"You… you really are… from the future," Angel said. "From 2003."

"Yes."

"That part was true."

"But only that part," Buffy insisted. "You're still strong. I still believe in you."

Angel said nothing for a long moment. "The First said you didn't love me anymore."

Buffy's grip loosened, a little, and she stepped back. "That's not… exactly…"

"You don't," Angel said. "I can tell."

Buffy sighed. "I love you," she confessed. "I don't think I'll ever stop. But I don't love you… like that. Not like I'm supposed to, at this point in history. It's just…" she drifted off. "So much has happened, since then," she whispered.

"Why are you here?" asked Angel. "Now? In this timeline? In this year? Was it… did the Doctor…?"

Buffy shook her head. "The First," she said. "It brought me back here. I don't know how. It wanted to change history."

"I don't—" Angel said.

"Back in 2003, the First is up against me, Faith, and a bunch of Potential Slayers I've been training," said Buffy. "I've just killed Caleb, gotten an unbeatable super-scythe, and you've given me some secret amulet thing that's going to give me extra power. And even if I don't win, I've got backup. You're in LA, with another line of defense. And the Doctor's out there, somewhere, wandering around time and space, ready to swoop in and set things right if all else fails. That gives me hope — and with hope, I can do anything. In 2003, the First actually has to _work_ to take over the world. But here…" Buffy shrugged. "Not so much."

"How so?"

"You've just come back from Hell," said Buffy. "You're still recovering. My friends don't trust you. The Mayor's been systematically getting rid of any complications to his Ascension, so there isn't a lot of competition in Sunnydale. The Doctor's evil. Faith's about to turn evil. The Doctor knows every weakness of the Slayer, and every weakness of mine. And if I follow Faith and the Doctor… and become evil myself… that'll be both Slayers and the only Time Lord in the universe all fighting for the First." She stared at the floor. "I know where the future's headed. Everyone's going to die. And I can't let that happen. I just can't."

Angel hesitated. "You sound like Eliza…"

Buffy snapped her head up, eyes glaring at him.

"Never mind," Angel muttered.

"I know what I have to do," Buffy assured Angel. "I know the future. Gwendolyn Post is going to show up any day now — and she's the beginning of Faith's descent into evil. I'll stop her, then stop Faith from killing the deputy mayor, and Faith will be on the right side. Then I go get the Scythe, trap the Doctor, figure out some way to… I don't know, restore his soul to him or something… and then—"

"Trap the Doctor," Angel repeated. "Not kill him."

Buffy froze.

"The First was right," said Angel. "You're in love with him."

"It's… more complicated than that," said Buffy.

"The Doctor," said Angel. "Is he really like the First says? Evil, soulless, unable to tell right from wrong? A murderer without conscience?"

Buffy said nothing for a long moment. "Yes."

"He's the First's servant."

"Yes."

"Then you know what you have to do," said Angel. "To save the world." He took her hands in his. "Please, Buffy. I don't know what happened to you, in those five years that got erased, but… I know what it's like when a good person loses his soul. That isn't the Doctor, anymore. If you don't get rid of him, he'll kill you."

Buffy jerked her hands away from Angel. "No."

"Buffy," Angel told her. "Please. I can't let you die."

Buffy stared at Angel, a long time, her brow creased. "So that's its game."

"What?"

"If I kill the Doctor — or even just try," Buffy explained, "I turn into her. Other-me. Elizabeth. I submit to the darkness. That's what the First wants."

"What?" A puzzled look on Angel's face. "Buffy, that makes no sense."

"Probably not." Buffy shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she said. "Just — look, Angel. I need you to do something for me. There's this glove. The Glove of Myhnegon. In the Von Hauptman family crypt. You have to find it and destroy it, before Gwendolyn Post shows up. You can destroy it using Living Flame."

Angel eyed Buffy, warily. "You're trying to change the future. Using your own foreknowledge."

"Yes," Buffy agreed. "I am."

Angel said nothing for a long moment. "I… don't know if I can do that."

Buffy stared at him. "Angel, I'm not the First! I'm Buffy! You can touch me, see?" She grabbed his hand in hers. "I'm the real, fully-corporeal Buffy. You've got to trust me. I have to change the future."

"I was asked to change the future before," Angel told her.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. "Elizabeth. Of course." She thought for a while, then shrugged. "Okay," she said, letting go of Angel's hand and turning to leave. "I'll destroy it myself."

"No, Buffy, wait!" Angel called after her.

Buffy stopped, glancing over her shoulder.

"I… if you think it's right… if it won't cause a universe-ending paradox… I'll do it." He paused. "It won't, right?"

Buffy didn't answer his question. "Trust me," she said, instead, "things couldn't get any worse than they already are."

And after she turned, and left, Angel could hear a voice in the background. The voice of Jenny Calendar.

"Funny," said Jenny Calendar. "That's just what Elizabeth told you, last time."


	9. Chapter 9

The Mayor stared out his window, contemplating what had just happened. "And you say she knows everything?"

"Far as my contacts can tell," Mr. Trick replied. "Ascension, Graduation Day, Olvikan — all of it. Slayer's worked out your whole deal, right off the bat."

The Mayor tilted his head, thinking. "You know, curiosity is a wonderful thing in a young mind," he said. "And it's a refreshing change of pace to see this kind of healthy, progressive thinking being encouraged in our children." He turned around to face Mr. Trick. "We'd better kill her."

Mr. Trick raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"Ideas?" asked the Mayor.

"In all honesty, Mayor Wilkins," said Mr. Trick, "I think the Slayer is the least of our problems, right now. Something's turned up, and it's scaring off all the nightlife in this town. Something of pure evil."

The Mayor walked over to his desk, intrigued. "Well, the Slayer's never going to stand for that," he said. He gave a smile, and patted Mr. Trick on the back. "See, this is what I like about you. Thinking outside the box. Two problems, and we can get rid of both at once."

"If what we saw in the sewer is anything to go by," said Mr. Trick, "I don't think we can count on our new Big Evil to kill the Slayer. Or the Slayer to kill him. I think he wants her alive."

The Mayor sat down, his eyes on Mr. Trick. "Tell me more."

"His name's the Doctor," said Mr. Trick. "And he _was_ one of the leading forces for good throughout the universe. Looks like something really nasty's gotten to him, because he's completely changed over to the other side. Major killing sprees."

"Any pattern?" asked the Mayor.

"Took out Torchwood," said Mr. Trick. "Every single branch. Other than that, no discernible pattern I can see. Seems to strike randomly. Maliciously. Then just move on. Whole towns wiped out, all at once."

"Sounds like he's trying to bring about the apocalypse," said the Mayor. He tapped a pen against his hand. "You know, that's one of the things that this world is lacking. People with dreams, ambitions, and goals, who are willing to do what it takes to carry them out."

"Thing is… it's not that simple," said Mr. Trick. "The Doctor — he'll kill a whole town, but leave one person alive. Untouched, unharmed, and free to go."

The Mayor pondered this. "Interesting." He sat on the edge of his desk. "Any connection between the people he saves?"

"None," Mr. Trick agreed. "Watchers Council's trying to work it out. Taken them all into custody."

"But no luck?"

"One of them killed himself rather than answer the Council's questions," Mr. Trick replied. "The others have no idea."

The Mayor thought a moment longer. "Mr. Trick," he said, at last, getting up to pace around his office, "I'm not the kind of man who sees the glass as half-empty. No, sir. I am a man of opportunity. And this seems like an opportunity I can't afford to miss."

Mr. Trick looked dubious.

"I think I'd like to meet this 'Doctor'," said the Mayor. "Make him an offer he can't refuse."

"And the Slayer?" asked Mr. Trick. "Should we kill her?"

"No, no!" said the Mayor. "I can't give up my best bargaining chip, now, can I?" He folded his arms, thinking the matter over. "If this Doctor wants her — well, you and I both know she'll never give herself up without a fight." He tilted his head. "I say — let's give the man what he wants."

"And how do we take her down?" Mr. Trick asked.

The Mayor grinned.

* * *

Torchwood was gone.

Completely gone. No records remaining, no members surviving.

"Not even Jack Harkness," said Giles. "He hung himself, a few days ago. Torchwood is well and truly destroyed."

So… looks like Jack escaped the Watchers Council, then. Because, not being able to die, he'd have woken up, free and back to normal, and then run off. Buffy wondered where he was, now. Then decided she had enough to worry about without worrying about Jack, and decided to get back to worrying about the fate of the world.

Torchwood was gone.

UNIT was the Doctor's second home. He knew everything there was to know about UNIT. Could crush it under his thumb, or use it to his advantage. Anything he liked.

And as for the Watchers Council… well, there was no one who knew more about the Slayer than the Doctor.

Yes, the more Buffy thought about it, the more she realized what Torchwood's loss actually meant. No wonder the First wanted to destroy it! Without Torchwood, all Earth's defenses were right in the palm of the Doctor's hand. He could use them for himself, manipulate all their systems and procedures for his own ends, ensure his own success.

No one could stop him.

(Possibly not even Buffy. Though she never wanted to admit this to herself.)

"Well, you're certainly cheerful today," came the voice of the Ninth Doctor.

Buffy sighed the moment she heard the voice. She looked up, to find the Ninth Doctor, leather jacket and big ears and all, arms akimbo, grinning at her. No, not the Ninth Doctor. The First Evil.

"What is this, your new favorite face?" Buffy asked him.

"Don't you like it?" asked the Ninth Doctor. He flicked his ears. "Ears are a bit big. And I've had better noses. But still. Not bad, as faces go."

Buffy slid down from the brick wall she'd been sitting on, and walked past the Ninth Doctor. "I'm done with you."

"Sorry, _you're_ done with _me_?" the Ninth Doctor asked. He pointed a finger at her. "You called me here. Didn't just drop by on the off-chance I might get tea and scones, you know."

"I didn't call you," said Buffy, not bothering to turn around. "I called _the Doctor_."

"Can't help it if I got the message, instead, now, can I?" asked the Ninth Doctor. "Got your message. Heard you were in trouble. Came to help."

Buffy pointedly ignored him.

She was busy thinking. Thinking about how to save the world. Thinking about what it meant that Torchwood was gone, that the Doctor could just reach in and snap his fingers, and the rest of the world-saving organizations would…

Wait a minute.

"It's 1998," Buffy realized.

Before she went to college. Before she met Riley. Before the Doctor met Riley. Before the Doctor was stuck in the Initiative for two months. Even before Amy and Rory went back in time to sabotage the 314 project. For everyone except her, it was 1998.

And the Doctor knew nothing about the Initiative.

Buffy ran towards UC Sunnydale.

From behind her, she could hear the Northern English accent muttering, "You stupid, stupid ape!"

* * *

"I'm sorry," said Professor Maggie Walsh. "Your name is…?"

"Buffy Summers," said Buffy. "And, yes, for the thousandth time, I know about the Initiative, and no, you don't have a security leak, and no, I'm not a spy. I could explain to you how I know about your organization, except that you probably wouldn't believe me, and I really don't have time to go into it. But… I just… need your help. Really. Right now."

"And you claim to be 'the Slayer'," Professor Walsh clarified. "A mythical position taken right out of the annals of the Middle Ages. A girl with super-powers."

"Yeah," said Buffy.

Professor Walsh didn't look impressed.

"Look, Torchwood is gone," Buffy said. "UNIT is powerless. You're the only ones left. The only group he doesn't know about."

"This 'he' being your… non-corporeal evil," Professor Walsh clarified. "From before the dawn of time."

"No," said Buffy. "The First knows about you already. It's the Doctor who doesn't."

Professor Walsh studied Buffy, carefully, as if weighing the possibility of her words being true. "And you want us," she said, at last, "to kill this 'Doctor' for you?"

"Not kill," said Buffy. "I know about your research. You can make demons and vampires unable to harm humans. I just want you to do the same to him."

"Make him harmless," Professor Walsh said.

"Yes."

"Without killing him or excessively hurting him?"

"Yes."

Professor Walsh considered. "Well, I admit, your 'Doctor' might make an interesting test subject." She eyed Buffy, a gleam in her eye. "Although… admittedly… _you_ might make better."

Buffy blinked. "What?"

A group of black-outfitted army guys dropped down out of nowhere and surrounded Buffy, their Taser Blasters pointed directly at her.

"You weren't exactly 'unexpected'," Professor Walsh explained. "A Slayer. Humanoid, but not human. Named Buffy Summers. Mayor Wilkins warned us about you."

Buffy glanced at the commandos around her — all attired completely in black, with ski-masks over their faces. Then, muttering a silent apology to whichever one was Riley, she lashed out.

Striking back at them full force, flipping them over her shoulder, weaving between them as fast as she could. They tried to swarm her, but she was too fast for them, and managed to evade their every movement.

And then…

A lucky shot from a nearby Taser Blaster. A lucky hit, and Buffy felt the electricity surging through her, and it felt… like dying. Felt like falling into that blue portal all over again, with the entire infinity of existence flooding through her body, except the pain stretched and lingered in her mind because — they weren't safe. No one was safe.

Buffy felt the world turn black, as she tumbled into nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

"Dr. Kalomn!" shouted a voice. "She's regaining consciousness."

Buffy's eyes shot open at the voice. She jerked up, almost knocking into the medical emergency person bending over her.

She wasn't in the Initiative.

In fact, Buffy was exactly where she'd been before. In Professor Walsh's office. Except a group of people had flocked around her, investigators and police and doctors and Buffy didn't know who else. All asking her questions, checking her vitals, requesting information.

"Same as the others," Buffy heard one policeman tell another. "Everyone else dead. Only one survivor — unharmed, unconscious, and probably unable to tell us what happened."

"What _did_…?" Buffy started. But she never finished.

Because that was when she saw the bodies.

All around her, everywhere she could see, were dead bodies. Professor Walsh, the Initiative soldiers, and… oh, God, everyone! Buffy glanced outside the window, and there were more, out there, college students that had just collapsed, all of a sudden, dead.

Buffy leapt to her feet, spinning around. "What… who…?" She swallowed. Whoever this was, whatever had happened, she had to find them and kill them. A demon that could do something like this was something she had to get rid of _right away_.

"Miss," said an investigator, stopping her before she had a chance to race out and track down the demon. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we're going to have to ask you a few questions."

* * *

"Oh, of course," said Buffy, a twisted smile on her face. "I tell you to do something, and you do it. No questions asked." She gave a sharp laugh. "No wonder you were Elizabeth's perfect patsy."

Angel clutched the bundle of rags that contained the Glove of Mynhegon a little tighter. "You're not her."

Buffy stepped towards Angel. "I could be," she offered. She came very close, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "You don't really know, do you?"

Angel reached out, and his hand went right through her breastbone, as if he were touching air. He turned away. "You're not her."

"I should slap you for that," said not-Buffy. "You tried to grope me."

Angel didn't answer.

"You want her, don't you?" said not-Buffy, creeping over to him. "You want her so badly it hurts. You could have her, Angel. You could take her."

"No."

Not-Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop being so virtuous and good! I know as well as you that you can barely keep your hands off her. Give in. Love her. Find comfort in her."

Angel felt himself trembling. "I… I…" He swallowed, then gritted his teeth. "I can't. I can't… become a monster again."

"And which part of you is saying that?" asked the First. "The part of you that's strengthened by her — now non-existent — love, or the part of you that doesn't give a damn about any of the implications, and just wants to do it?"

Angel shrunk back.

"You're going to give in to me, eventually," said the First. "Why not make the process pleasant for yourself?"

Angel dropped the Glove on the floor. "You're trying to make me kill her," he whispered. "Lose my soul and kill her, and never think twice about it."

The First gave a sigh. "I wish," she muttered. She waved it away. "No, no. Your Buffy's not going to die. I need her around — at least for a little while longer." She gave Angel a determined stare, and a small smile. "Your job for me is going to be far more important."

* * *

Willow shook her head, leaning back from her computer. "Nothing. No connection."

"None at all?" Giles asked. He wiped his glasses, nervously, against his shirt. "Look again. There has to be some reason he's keeping them alive. Something all these people have in common."

Willow took another look down at her list of names. She pointed to the first name — 'Sarah Jane Smith'. "She's a reporter." Then to 'Santiago Jones'. "He's a shiftless vagrant and a political protester." Then to 'Arianna Chesterton'. "She's a secretary for a law firm in New York." Then to 'Tegan Jovanka'. "She runs an animal food company in Australia." Then to 'Donna Noble'. "And she's a temp from Chiswick." She glanced up at Giles. "No connection whatsoever."

"And nothing more on our 'Jack Harkness' fellow," Giles muttered. "Typical of Torchwood. Wiping all records on their personnel."

"I've got reports of a Jack Harkness who died in January of 1940," Willow offered. "In World War II." She clicked a few more times on the computer. "There's also a report of a Jack Harkness who was shot in a fight on Ellis Island in 1892." She typed a little while longer, and frowned. "And… basically, a lot of reports of someone named 'Jack Harkness' dying."

"Perhaps his ancestral lineage chose to keep the same name," Giles guessed. "Would that be some sort of common link between him and the other survivors? An ancient and well-documented ancestry?"

"Nope." Willow typed a bit more at the computer, then shook her head, and glanced up at Giles. "Did the Watchers Council get anything out of him, before he died?"

"Nothing," said Giles. He collapsed into a chair. "Just like the others. No information. No clues. Nothing we can use."

The doors to the library burst open, and Xander ran into the room. "Will, Giles," he said, panting. "It's… UC Sunnydale. Big bomb. Fried everyone's brain. Hundreds dead."

Willow and Giles looked at one another. Thinking the same thing.

"The Doctor," Giles muttered.

Willow consulted her list. "This is just like what happened a few days ago, with Arianna Chesterton," she said. "I wonder—"

"Buffy," Xander interrupted, "was going to UC Sunnydale today."

Willow and Giles' eyes widened in horror. They jumped out of their seats, and ran.

* * *

Buffy said nothing, just cradling her head in her hands.

"I promise you, every word of it is true," Giles assured her. "The murders have been happening all over the world. Hundreds dead, but with one sole survivor — alive, unharmed, and unable to tell anyone anything useful."

Buffy didn't answer.

"And… we're really sure it's the Doctor killing them," Willow added. "Like… really, _really_ sure."

Still, no answer.

"Buffy," said Xander, leaning down and trying to look into her eyes. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"They were going to torture me," Buffy muttered.

Xander, Willow, and Giles all looked at each other, a new concern blossoming in their faces.

"Who, precisely, was going to torture you, Buffy?" Giles asked her.

"The Initiative," said Buffy. "Just like they did to the Doctor, that one time. They were going to lock me up, drug me, beat me, put things in my brain." She stared into the distance, sadness and anger and relief all clouding her face. "So he killed them."

"Buffy, he didn't kill just those commando people," said Willow. "He killed _everyone._"

"Everyone," Buffy whispered, "except me. They're all dead because I…" She stared down at her hands, a horrible guilt running across her face, one that she tried to cram down as soon as she realized it was there.

"Buffy," said Giles. "I know it's hard — I don't precisely understand _why_ it's hard, but that's beside the point — but you have to kill the Doctor. What he's doing here — it's cold-blooded murder. Murder on a massive scale."

Buffy shook her head. "I can't."

"Buffy…" Willow started.

"You don't understand!" Buffy snapped. "You don't get how it feels to be that… _alone_. If I kill him… if I actually do it…" She trailed off. "I'll always be alone," she whispered.

"Faith," Willow offered.

Buffy shook her head. "It's not the same. I mean, sure, I've got the whole telepathic instinct to keep her alive thing going on, but… she's not… in here." Buffy tapped the side of her head. "He is."

The Scoobies all looked at one another. Then back at Buffy.

"That makes no sense," Willow said.

Buffy didn't meet her eyes. "Guess not."

"Here's the thing," said Xander. "Buffy's the Slayer. The Doctor's the Big Bad. She's supposed to be killing him. But isn't. He's supposed to be killing her. But is saving her life. Even though he knows she's going to do everything she can to stop him!" He looked at all the others. "So my question is… when did the world stop making sense?"

Buffy froze. Then snapped her head around, and stared at Xander.

"Obviously, the First needs her for something," Giles muttered. "After all, having a rogue Slayer on our hands — I couldn't think of anything more dangerous."

"What about having a rogue Slayer _and_ a super-duper murderous alien, both being strengthened by an evil from before the dawn of time with powers we can't even imagine?" Willow offered.

Giles considered. "All right," he admitted. "That's worse."

Xander sighed, and waved his arms. "Yeah, yeah, great. Everyone pick on stupid little Xander."

"You're right," Buffy whispered.

Everyone snapped their heads over to Buffy, who was still staring at Xander, something igniting in her eyes.

"The world's stopped making sense," Buffy continued. She gestured at the world around her. "This whole First-taking-over thing… it only happened because I died, and Willow brought me back to life. But… I didn't. Not in this reality."

"Hello?" said Xander. "CPR-thingy!"

"Well, yeah," came a Northern-English accent. "But that's not exactly the same, now, is it?"

Buffy's body tensed at the voice, and she didn't bother looking back. She hated this, so much.

The others all turned, and discovered the tall, leather-jacketed man standing a short ways away, hands in pockets, looking very lax and nonchalant.

"Big difference, see, between a temporal probability and an actual physical reality," explained the Ninth Doctor. "Probability of being dead. And being buried in the ground, corpse-stone-cold dead. Probability. Physical reality." He pointed at Buffy. "You know that already. Difference between IPSA and your Potential Slayer army."

"The Potential Slayers are all still alive in this reality," Buffy said.

"But for how long?" The Ninth Doctor crossed his arms, and nodded at Giles. "Why don't you ask your Watcher, here, what the Council's been up to, recently?"

Giles leapt to his feet, and advanced on the First. "I hardly think that is any of your—"

"Feelin' a bit defensive, are we?" said the Ninth Doctor, stepping out of the way as Giles charged at him.

Buffy felt her heart stop, for just a second, as she saw the guilt in Giles' face. As she realized the First — who'd slipped away, when she wasn't looking — was right.

"Giles," Buffy said, climbing to her own feet. "What's the Council doing?"

A little more tension sprung into Giles' shoulders, and he turned to face her a little too slowly.

"I promise," said Giles, "it won't happen to you. The Council knows you work for them. I'll make sure… you make a full report. They won't need to…" He hesitated, then, in a much softer voice, continued, "…detain you."

Buffy said nothing for a long moment.

"What?" she demanded.

"They're the only lead we've got, Buffy," Willow tried to explain. She shook the list in front of Buffy. "If just one of these people could tell us what was going on…"

Buffy snatched the list from Willow, and discovered a list of names, circumstances, and times of detention. Beginning with Jack Harkness, Torchwood Agent, and ending with Donna Noble, Temp from Chiswick. All just like her — found in the middle of a massacre, the only survivors. The only ones left alive. Unable or unwilling to tell the Council anything.

All the Doctor's friends.

Imprisoned. Locked up. Detained by the Watchers Council.

"Get them out of there," Buffy said.

Giles frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Get them out of there!" Buffy shouted, lunging at Giles. "Get them out of there, right now!"

"Buffy," said Willow, a little uneasily, "what's wrong?"

Buffy marched forwards, waving the paper in Giles' face. "These are his friends!" she snapped. "That's what he's doing! Taking revenge on anyone who's ever harmed them. Ever imprisoned them. Ever even thought about hurting them. And the Watchers Council is imprisoning them." She crinkled the paper into a ball, her eyes blazing. "The First wants the Doctor to destroy the Slayer, and you've just given him every reason he needs to do so!" She took another step forwards, her hands clenched by her sides. "Now get those people out of there!"

* * *

"I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, Angel," said the First, in the voice of Jenny Calendar. "I'm just reminding you who you really are."

Angel huddled in on himself, his head cradled in his hands.

"Weak," continued the First. "Defenseless. Vulnerable. Malleable. Always roped in to doing other people's dirty work."

"Leave me alone!" Angel roared.

"Only one person ever believed you could be better," said the First, its voice shifting into that of his little sister, Kathy. The sister he, himself, had murdered, so long ago. "You were isolated, alone, feeding off rats and unable to come to terms with who and what you were. And then, like a gift from heaven, she appeared to you." The First morphed, again, into the form of Buffy Summers. "Your Elizabeth."

The voice and image gave Angel strength. Courage. He pried his hands off his head, and gave the First a challenging glare. "She knew I was strong."

"Your role model," said the First, Buffy's smile on its face. "Your inspiration. Your light out of the darkness." The First laughed. "An insane madwoman! A murderer!"

Angel leapt to his feet. "I'm not listening to your lies," he said, as he walked away.

"Everyone on the island of Iphidrin," the First called after him. "Dead. Slaughtered."

"The Doctor killed them," Angel said. "Elizabeth had nothing to do with that."

The First shook her head. "The Doctor was tied to a gurney and barely conscious! You think he was in a position to do anything?" She sauntered over to Angel, who had frozen in the middle of the room. "Elizabeth lied to you, Angel. Over and over again. You were her puppet, and she used you."

"No."

"I've seen the Doctor's memories," said the First. "Everything he knows, I know. Your greatest inspiration, your shining light, your reason to be strong — was a cold-blooded killer. Someone being driven slowly insane and psychopathic, and unable to stop it."

Angel spun around. "Elizabeth was a good person!" he shouted. "She was my friend! My only friend, in those days! All I had to bring me out of the darkness!"

"You wanted to kill him, in 1905," said the First. "The Doctor. For what he did to you back in Romania. You entertained so many revenge fantasies. And that was when Elizabeth found you."

"She showed me a better way," Angel growled. "She knew…!"

"That you would do anything she said," the First confirmed. "That you hated the Doctor, almost as much as she did. That if she ever gave you… say… an ancient, mystical, lost weapon from the Time War — a cube that could suck the soul out of a body and condemn it to a fate worse than hell — you'd use it."

Angel stepped back. "She… trusted me to keep it safe."

Not-Buffy pouted. "Poor Angel. Tricked so many times. Used so very often."

Angel's hands began trembling.

"You nearly destroyed the universe," said the First, "because she asked you to. You tried to change the future, tried to create a paradox, just because she said, 'pretty please!'"

"I… I…" Angel faltered. "She didn't know what she was doing, when she asked me that."

"You really believe that?" asked the First. She leaned in closer to Angel, and Angel didn't have the heart to back away from what was — so much — like Buffy. "Or is that just the part of you that stubbornly refuses to admit the truth?"

Angel said nothing.

"It tore you apart, when you found out," said the First. "What she wanted you to do. That the mission she'd given you — the most important mission of your life — would destroy the world. Rip apart the universe. It killed you to realize that you could never see her again." The First shrugged. "After all, show up when she wanted you to, and you'd create a paradox, destroying the universe. Show up when you technically should, and she'd know you let her down, and would hate you forever."

Angel felt the entire weight of that decision crashing on top of him, once more. Smothering him. Just as it had, when he'd first learned the truth.

"No wonder you went back to your old ways!" laughed the First. "Began living as a wreck, again! Angel the coward! Too scared to do what she asked you, too ashamed to refuse to do it. So frightened that your savior might be… evil." The First grinned. "Like me."

Angel gritted his teeth. "She wasn't evil! She wasn't trying to destroy the universe! I trusted her! I'll always trust her, in any timeline! Buffy or Elizabeth!"

"Then why haven't you destroyed that Glove?" asked the First.

Angel didn't have any words to answer.

"Angel, Angel, Angel," the First tsked. "You may be a weak-willed coward, but you're not stupid. You know that acting on future information like this is bad. You might not understand enough about temporal mechanics to work out how or why, but you still know it's wrong." She took another step forwards. "And you know who asked you to do this horrible, wrong, heinous deed. The same person. In two different timelines."

"I… it's not… Buffy doesn't…" Angel tried.

"Wake up to reality," said Not-Buffy, crossing her arms and giving him a proud smile. "I know. You know. The Doctor knows. Buffy Summers knows. Elizabeth was evil, insane, and psychopathic — and Buffy's no different." She shrugged. "See, Angel? I'm coming. I'm taking over this world, this universe, this entire reality. And this time, there's no one around to stop me."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: A short chapter, but an important one. Important enough, I thought, to put on its own.

* * *

"I told you!" Buffy said, her whole body almost shaking in rage, the moment she'd heard the news. Several days after the incident with the Initiative. "I warned you that this would happen!"

Giles slumped over the table in the library, his head in his hands. "Yes, you did."

"And you still didn't let the Doctor's friends go!"

"It wasn't my decision, Buffy," Giles insisted. "I pleaded your case to the Council, and they didn't listen."

"Wait," said Cordelia. "I thought you said you called up Quentin Travers and told him _not_ to let the witnesses go, because Buffy was bewitched and we needed all the information we could get."

Everyone glared at Cordelia.

"What?" asked Cordelia. "You did!"

"I've since… reassessed the situation," Giles explained. "Once Buffy's theories were proven correct. As has the Council. The witnesses have been released." He looked down at the ground, and muttered, "Not that it's doing much good."

Buffy gave Giles a long, hard stare. "The First isn't going to stop with one or two," she said. "It's going to hunt down every single Potential Slayer, every single Watcher, and kill them. And you've just given the Doctor all the reason he needs to go after them himself!"

"Is anyone going to explain what a Potential Slayer is?" Xander interrupted. "For all us dumb-guys in the room?"

Buffy sighed. "Willow, you explain. I'm too busy yelling at Giles."

"I'd… kind of like an answer, too," Willow ventured. "I mean, I get what 'the Slayer' is, but what's the 'Potential Slayer'?"

"There is always one Slayer," Giles explained. "One girl in all the world to battle back the forces of darkness. When she dies, another takes her place. Potential Slayers are… the girls with the potential to become the Slayer, in the event that either Buffy or Faith die."

"And if you kill off all the Watchers," said Buffy, "and all the Potential Slayers, and me and Faith, then there is no more Slayer. The Slayer line disappears."

"But… _why_ does the First want to do that?" Xander asked.

"To take over the Earth, one presumes," said Giles. "Manifest in every human being throughout the world. Become corporeal."

"No, wait, Xander's right," said Willow. "Buffy told us that the First doesn't want to destroy the Slayer. It wants to gain the Slayer's power."

"Oh, is that what she said?" asked a voice from the library doors.

The Scoobies all turned, to find the image of Jenny Calendar, walking towards them. Giles' face completely drained of color, as he faced the apparition.

Jenny Calendar tutted at Buffy, shaking her head. "You really think the power of the Slayer is anything next to my power? My will? My strength? You really think I'd have anything to gain from a fractional slice of a Time Lord Consciousness?"

Buffy didn't bother to dignify the First with an answer. Just remained defiant in her rigidness.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I've already got a Time Lord," said Jenny Calendar. She paused, and considered. "Well, two, if you count the one I controlled back in the anti-matter universe." She grinned. "Face it. You're useless. All of you."

"Then why are you so intent on destroying the Slayer?" Buffy demanded. "If there's no way for the Slayer to defeat you?"

Jenny laughed. "For fun!"

Giles leapt to his feet, his face pale with rage, his eyes blazing, as he advanced on the non-corporeal entity that dared to defile the memory of someone he'd loved so dearly. "If you think we're going to let you simply… eliminate us from the universe… you're wrong. We won't ever give in! We won't ever let you—"

Jenny yawned. "Oh, he is so boring!" she complained. She turned to Buffy. "How do you put up with him?"

Buffy met the First's eyes, her stare pointed, determined. "He's right."

Jenny put her hands on her hips. "Oh, of course," she said. "Because the Slayer is just so powerful, it can defeat the evilest thing in creation!" She laughed. "Take a reality check, kiddo. You're going to lose. Big time."

Buffy grabbed Xander, Giles, and Willow, and led them out of the library. Before she left, she paused, and looked over her shoulder, at the First. "The Daleks thought that, too," she said. "Before they met IPSA."

Then she turned back, and left the library, the door swinging after her.

And after Buffy left, the First stayed put a moment, still in Jenny's form, staring after Buffy with a hint of confusion on its face.

"IPSA?" it asked.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: Due to yesterday's lack of post, I made this one twice as long. I've been having some bad days, recently, so I'm sorry if the writing's not up to the usual standard.

Hope this chapter's at least okay.

* * *

Faith slammed the vampire across the bench, as Buffy dive bombed a second one sneaking up behind. The vampire kicked out at Faith, who grabbed it by the leg and spun it through the air. Buffy grabbed her own by the arm and swung him onto the ground, where he just missed the tip of her stake.

Faith kicked out, driving her vampire forwards, as Buffy drove her own vampire towards Faith's, and in an instant, both Slayers drew out their stakes, and turned the vampires to dust in the air.

Giles, sitting on a nearby tombstone, watched while sipping his tea.

"New Olympic category," said Faith, high-fiving Buffy. "Synchronized Slaying." She went towards Giles. "Impressive, huh?"

"Hardly," said a female, English accented voice, as a thin woman in a business-suit emerged in the graveyard. She stopped in front of them, her short-cropped blond hair staying perfectly still in the night wind. "You telegraph punches, leave blind-sides open, and — first rule of Slaying — don't take entirely too much time. Which one of you is Faith?"

Giles blinked, in his unnerved British manner.

"That depends," said Faith. "Who the hell are you?"

"Gwendolyn—" the woman started.

"—Post," Buffy cut in. "Sent here from the Watcher's Council. Faith's new Watcher. Am I right?"

Gwendolyn Post hesitated for a moment. "Yes, actually," she conceded. She turned to Giles. "I suppose that explains why she's stayed alive so long, despite your incompetent training. She's quite clever."

Giles nearly dropped his tea.

"There is, of course, another reason I'm here," Post continued. "No doubt you've heard of the recent murders."

"Five Watchers dead, their trainees missing," Faith said. "And there's no telling when it's gonna stop."

"The Council has sent me here to ensure that the both of you are well-trained," Post said. "And to report on the entire situation. Including Mr. Giles, over here."

Giles choked on his tea.

"But there's more to it than that," Buffy guessed, with a sigh.

"Due to the many times that the First's acolyte, the Doctor, has arrived in Sunnydale," said Post, "the Council believes it likely that he is searching for something, here. An artifact called—"

"The Glove of Mynhegon," Buffy interrupted. "Which is a super-dangerous artifact whose powers are unrecorded in any written record, and you want Faith and I to search for it in the cemeteries in Sunnydale."

Post said nothing for a moment, examining Buffy carefully. "Quite," she said, at last.

Buffy stalked towards her. "Except that's a lie," she continued. "Because the First _does _want a weapon hidden in Sunnydale — but it's not the Glove of Mynhegon. And it's not located in a cemetery."

"Buffy," Giles cut in. "If the Council believes—"

"You're too late," said Buffy, in a dark, dangerous voice, as she approached Post. "The Glove's already been found. And destroyed. Living Flame. You'll never get your hands on it."

Post fidgeted with her hands, a small, nervous smile creeping up her face. "Destroyed?"

"Buffy!" Giles shouted, imposing himself between Buffy and Post. His face was stern, indignant, and still severely flustered. "What's gotten into you?"

"Giles," said Buffy, calmly, "trust me. She's not what she seems. She isn't here to get rid of the Glove. She's here to use it for herself." She turned to Faith. "You believe me, right?"

Faith looked between Buffy and Post. "No," she admitted.

Buffy's jaw fell open. "But… you… don't like authority figures!" she insisted. "You…"

"I don't," Faith agreed. She shrugged. "But seems like you're the authority figure giving all the orders, here, B. Not Mrs. Post."

Buffy stared at her.

"Just look at yourself!" Faith demanded. "Look at what you've become! Hiding away Angel! Summoning vengeance demons! Letting the Big Bads run free!"

"I'm not—"

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" Faith shouted, getting into Buffy's face. "Who are you to be leading anybody? We're all going to be ground into mincemeat by some alien servant of the First Evil, and you won't kill him? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Buffy couldn't think of what to say.

Faith threw her stake at Buffy's feet. "I'm done with you, B," she said, and turned around, to walk off with Gwendolyn Post.

"Faith, wait!" Buffy called, chasing after her, but Faith pushed Buffy back with a force hard enough to topple her to the ground.

Faith gave Buffy a long, hard stare, then left with Post.

Giles helped Buffy to her feet, and put his hands on her shoulders. "Let her go."

Buffy felt her heart sink in her chest, as she recognized the look in Giles' eyes. It was his disappointed look. The one he used when he was furious at her, but trying not to show it.

"You agree with her," Buffy realized. She shook her head. "But... you believed me! When I told you I was from the future!"

"Buffy," said Giles, in a soft voice, "look at yourself. Look at what you're doing. First with Angel, and now with the Doctor. You're helping and protecting people who've murdered more souls than you can imagine. You're risking the lives of everyone you know and love, as if this were simply… a game!" He pointed in the direction of Gwendolyn Post. "And when the Watchers Council does send us aid, you antagonize her! Threaten her!"

"She's evil!" Buffy insisted.

"_You're_ the one putting the world at risk!" Giles retorted. He breathed, heavily, anger steaming from his face. "I can understand your protecting Angel's life. I don't like it, I don't approve of it, but I understand it. But… the Doctor!" He shook her. "What is he to you, Buffy? What makes it so impossible to kill him?"

"Because… because… it's just…" Buffy hesitated. "…he's not completely evil! I mean, he can't be, right? It's impossible! He'd never give in like that! He's… he's… he's still saving people!"

"He has slaughtered thousands," said Giles. "He is unstoppable, undefeatable. He knows every weakness of the Slayer, and he's fully prepared to use that knowledge against us."

"That still doesn't mean we should kill him!" Buffy shouted.

Giles gave a small sigh. "Buffy," he said. "It's time for you to choose what side you're on. Either you fight the First with us, or you continue to protect the Doctor."

Buffy stared at Giles a moment longer. "You really think that's it."

"Buffy—"

"No!" Buffy insisted. "You really think there are only two sides! Good and evil! Right and wrong! If I'm not on Gwendolyn Post's side, then I have to be on the First's side. If I'm not trying to kill the Doctor, I have to be evil! And you have no idea… no idea at all… that things are bigger than that."

"I am perfectly well aware of the magnitude of this catastrophe," Giles replied. "You're the one who believes it's—"

"You should listen to her," said the Northern English accent, as the leather-jacketed figure stepped out of the shadows. He pointed at Buffy. "Fantastic, that one is."

Giles stepped away from Buffy, utter betrayal in his eyes as he looked between the Ninth Doctor, and Buffy. As he seemed to put the pieces together — the First sticking up for Buffy — in exactly the wrong way.

"I'm not going to surrender to you," Buffy snapped at the Ninth Doctor. "Whatever Giles may think, I'm not on your side, and I never will be. So you can forget it."

"Bigger picture," the Ninth Doctor repeated, ignoring her. "Larger scope. One insignificant little decision, and the entire future changes. Your family moves to Cleveland instead of Sunnydale. You reveal Angel's still around sooner than you should. You arrive back at the TARDIS one second too late. Little changes. Massive consequences."

"_This_ isn't a little change," Buffy said, pointing at the ground. "You brought me back in time. You made the Doctor evil. You destroyed every other alternate reality, and left only this one."

The Ninth Doctor shrugged. "Should have been more careful what you asked for."

"I never asked for this!" Buffy shouted. She stepped forwards, seething, her hands bunched into fists. "I should have expected you to show up! You did this kind of thing in my old reality, too! Separating me from my friends! Making them throw me out of the house, at the very moment you were worried I'd get the Scythe. And here, you just… appear… and then pretend that you're my bestest buddy, so Giles thinks I'm working for you!" She gave the First a look of utter hatred. "Well, get this. I'm your enemy. And I'm going to stop at nothing to make sure you're defeated!"

She spun around, and marched off, determination on her face.

The Ninth Doctor watched her as she left the graveyard. "Haven't worked it out, yet, then," he mused.

* * *

"So you got my call," said the Mayor, with a friendly smile. He offered the man across the desk from him a plate of cookies. "Chocolate chip! Hand-made!"

The thin, pinstripe-suited man just quirked an eyebrow at him, not taking a cookie.

"Suit yourself," said the Mayor. "Not a fan of the culinary arts. Fine, fine!" He took a cookie himself, and began to munch on it. "You know, these really are good. Delicious!" He turned to one of his numerous vampire and demonic bodyguards. "My compliments to the cooks."

The Doctor looked at all the bodyguards, as well. "Using mindless banter to call my attention to the fact that you're well defended," he commented. "Well done. Any more disarmingly unhinged chatter, or are you done distracting me, and ready to get on with it?"

The Mayor leaned back in his chair, and pointed a cookie at Mr. Trick. "Mr. Trick, here, has told me about you," he said. "Once a fighter for good and justice, and now, working the other side. And," leaning across the table, "can I just say — great work! Wiping out Torchwood. Killing all those Watchers. Trying to destroy the Slayer." He gave a laugh. "You youngsters really approach this job with energy, don't you?"

The Doctor didn't answer, just raised an eyebrow at the word 'youngster'.

"Thing is," said the Mayor, "I started noticing that you've been spending a lot of your time in Sunnydale. And every single time, you ignore everyone else, and focus all your attention on one person in particular. The Slayer. Buffy Summers." He grinned. "So I thought, why not give the young man what he wants?" He stretched out a hand towards the Doctor. "What do you say?"

The Doctor sighed. "Are you done, yet?"

The Mayor gave a friendly laugh. "I like that!" he said. "Down to business, right away! Good to see you're not one of those young slackers you always see running around town!"

The Doctor examined him, carefully. "Oh, Richard Wilkins," he said. "You're even thicker now than the last time we met."

The Mayor hesitated.

"Sixteen body guards," the Doctor continued. "Reinforced glass in the windows. Triple security around the building. And you thought I wouldn't notice that you're afraid of me?" He threw up his hands into the air. "Unarmed! Surrounded on all sides! Completely defenseless!" He leaned in. "So why are all your bodyguards trembling?"

Mr. Trick stepped forwards, his face transforming into a vampiric snarl, but the Mayor held up his hand, and Mr. Trick backed off.

"My time is approaching," said the Mayor. "Soon, I'm going to devour this town. I am going to Ascend. And when that time comes, you'll have to accept the fact that…"

"…I'm your servant, I'm nothing, I'm a little tiny dot in the vast ocean of your pure evilness," the Doctor said, with the brush of his hand. "Heard it all before, thanks. Wasn't interested, then, either."

The Mayor flicked his eyes over at Mr. Trick. Then back to the Doctor.

"Course," the Doctor continued, "first time I heard it, I was a different man. Green frock coat. Dashingly handsome in a sort of Byronic way. And, at that time, I actually cared about the fate of the innocents you were trying to slaughter." He shrugged. "Funny how things change."

"You going to accept the deal or not?" Mr. Trick demanded of the Doctor.

The Doctor looked at him as if he were insane. "Not, of course," he said. "Should have thought that was obvious."

The vampire bodyguards all growled and hissed.

"All right, all right!" said the Mayor. "You're a hard bargainer, Doctor, but I like that. Enthusiasm and an emphasis on the bottom line. Tell you what. I'll give you both Slayers — drugged, bound, any way you want them — and their Watchers, kill off their friends for you, and, just because I'm feeling generous, I'll throw in that Angel guy, too. Anything you want to do with them — up to you!"

The Doctor leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Wilkins," he said. "Do you know where I am, right now?" The Doctor glanced down at — what appeared to be — a chunky black wrist watch. "November 11, 1998. Half past two in the morning." He looked up, thinking. "Right around Utah, I'd think. Remember that. Just killed a rather dumpy bloke — Watcher. Henry, that was his name."

The Mayor looked blankly at the Doctor.

"You got the wrong one, Richard Wilkins," said the Doctor. "The wrong version of me. I'm the me from the future — the me that time travels into the past. And — know what? When I come from, you're already dead." He smiled. "Because I've already killed you."

The Mayor scooted his chair back, a little, as his bodyguards all grabbed for the Doctor. The Doctor dodged them, expertly.

"But I know what you're going to ask," said the Doctor. "'Why come back in time just to talk to someone you've already killed in the future?' After all, not really a gloater, see. Never saw the point." He gave a small shrug. "Just thought you should know why. Why I killed you."

More quickly than anyone could make out, the Doctor was over by the Mayor, holding him by his suit jacket, glaring into his eyes.

"You," said the Doctor, "tried to harm Buffy Summers. You tried to torture her. You were going to try to eat her. And then…" His eyes narrowed. "You killed Jack. Ten times."

The Doctor threw the Mayor into his office chair.

"I don't do chances, anymore," the Doctor said. "In the future, you harmed my friends. So I went back in time. And killed you before you could."

The vampires all lunged for the Doctor, but he just gave a wink, pressed a button on his wrist gadget, and vanished.

The Mayor caught his breath. He turned to Mr. Trick.

"Change of plan," said the Mayor. "The Dedication ceremony takes place tomorrow." He took in a shaky breath. "I need to be invulnerable."

* * *

"Look, nobody's here to blame you, Buffy," Willow assured her. "But this is serious. You need help."

Buffy wanted to hit her head on something. She'd forgotten that her friends had given her an intervention-talk when they'd first learned about Angel. The whole "you have a problem with harboring dangerous reformed/partially-reformed murderers who've tried to end the world" talk. Looks like it was happening again.

And at exactly the wrong time.

"Will, trust me, I know what I'm doing," Buffy assured her. "This is just way more complicated than you think."

"Really?" Xander demanded. "How? Explain to the rest of us how harboring vicious murderers is supposed to be a good thing!"

"This isn't about attacking Buffy!" Willow reprimanded Xander. "Remember, 'I-Statements' only. _I_ feel angry, _I _feel worried…"

"Here's one," said Cordelia. She turned to Buffy. "I feel worried. About _me_. Every time you fall for some psycho-guy, you wind up being completely fine, and everyone around you gets threatened or killed."

Buffy felt a pang of guilt inside of her, at those words. As she remembered… all those Potential Slayers she'd buried. All the First's victims, back in 2003, that had died just because she'd come back to life.

"I know this is confusing," said Buffy. "But I'm on your side. Really, I am. Everything I'm doing now makes perfect sense if you understood all the crazy… time… stuff that's going on in the background."

"The 'time stuff' that means we're not real?" Oz clarified.

"Buffy," said Giles. "I'm afraid your actions are beginning to cross a line. A rogue Slayer at any time is a dangerous matter — and when we are facing an enemy as perilous as this, it is approaching disaster."

"Exactly!" Buffy exclaimed. "That's what I'm saying! I've got to stop Faith, before she—"

"I wasn't talking about Faith," Giles muttered, wiping his glasses on his shirt.

Buffy stared at him. Then all the others. "No," she said. She shook her head. "No! You think… I mean, you believe that _I'm_…?"

"We're just trying to help you, Buffy," Willow insisted. "But you've got to accept that you have a problem."

Buffy held her head in her hands. "I don't believe this. You're having a we-think-Buffy's-gone-all-evil-Slayer intervention?"

"It's not an intervention," Giles admitted, with a sigh. "It's a final warning." He put his glasses back on his face. "Last night, you threatened a representative of the Watcher's Council. Post and I have discussed the matter, and she's willing to let it drop, so long as you offer her an apology and ensure your actions take a more positive turn."

"She's letting this whole thing go?" Buffy asked. Oh, that was bad. Because Gwendolyn Post was perfectly happy killing her, back in Buffy's old world — her main interest was in the Glove. So what did Post want, now? What was she trying to do?

Xander crossed his arms. "We also heard about the weapon."

"Weapon?" Buffy asked. "What weapon? What are you guys—?"

"That… Gwendolyn Post person… kind of showed up, while you were gone," Willow admitted. "And told us about what you'd said. That the First was after some super-weapon hidden in Sunnydale, that only _you_ know about."

Buffy's eyes widened. Oh, no. Post wanted the Scythe? Okay, that was way worse than her getting her hands on the Glove of Mynhegon.

One word, in the wrong place, at the wrong time…

"You going to entrust _that_ super-weapon to Angel, too?" Xander asked. "Or are you just going to hand it over to your best friend, the First?"

"The First is not my friend!" Buffy shouted.

"Really?" asked Xander. "Because we've all been seeing the First, too, and the only time it stops being malicious and threatening and super-evil, and starts being helpful and supportive, is when it turns all big-eared leather-jacket and starts hanging out around you."

Buffy got up from the chair. "This isn't helping!" she said. "I've got to find Gwendolyn Post and stop her. Trust me, she's not just some… Watcher from the Council! She wants the Scythe, and if she ever finds it, then we're going to be in serious trouble!"

The others around her seemed wary.

Buffy turned to Giles. "I've warned you about stuff like this before," she insisted. "I knew about the babies, remember? And the Doctor going after the Slayer line! How could I know that stuff if I wasn't from the future?"

"You got the information about the Band Candy out of Ethan Rayne," said Oz. "When you tried to collaborate with him."

"And it was obvious what course of action the Doctor would take against the Watchers Council," said Giles. "There've been warnings in the Slayer Annals dating back centuries."

"Can we get back to what's important?" Cordelia complained. "Buffy's horrible taste in boyfriends?"

Buffy shifted from foot-to-foot. "The Doctor's not my…" She caught herself. "I mean… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Buffy," said Xander, "you can give up the act. It's pretty obvious that whoever this Doctor-guy is, you're head over heels in love with him."

"For once, could you sleep with a guy who _doesn't_ want to kill us all?" Cordelia demanded.

"He doesn't…" Buffy trailed off, then buried her face in her hands. "He can get better. Spike got better."

"Spike?!" exclaimed every person in the room.

Oh, great, Buffy. Make them even more suspicious of you. No wonder the Doctor always had such a hard time convincing her friends to like him, back in Buffy's normal reality. When you knew the future, it was really hard not to say things that sounded super incriminating in the past.

Giles gave a long sigh. "Buffy," he said, "I'm your Watcher, and I care very deeply about you. But if you give us any more reason to believe that you've abandoned your sacred duty to protect the world… I will have to report you to the Council."

Buffy stared at them.

"This is your final warning," said Giles. "After this… you're in their hands. They'll decide your fate."


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Yes, it's short. But the next section should be on its own. Due to much craziness and actioniness occurring.

Enjoy!

* * *

Angel was curled up on the floor, trying to block out the sounds of his own guilt. The phantoms of the people he'd killed, who kept circling him, round and round, reminding him of his crimes. So much blood on his hands…

"You think you can repent?" said the ghost of Daniel, the boy Angel had killed just before his wedding day. "You think you can shake off what you really are? A monster?"

"I won't do it!" Angel shouted at them. "I won't… sleep with… Buffy doesn't even want to…!"

"Why not? You had no problem forcing yourself on me," came the voice of Nadezhda, the Kalderash girl he'd murdered so long ago. "I always thought I was worthless. Nothing. Then I met the Doctor and Elizabeth, and they asked me to come with them. See the universe. It was the first time I realized that I was more than just the chief's pretty daughter. That I was special." Her voice cracked. "But that just made you all the more eager to prove me wrong, didn't it?"

Angel shuddered.

"Did you enjoy it, sir?" asked Margaret, the servant he'd raped and murdered a hundred years ago. "When you had your way with me? Did you enjoy murdering my son, as well?"

"That wasn't me!" Angel insisted. "That was… a monster…"

"Then why does it hurt so much, remembering it?" asked Jenny Calendar. "Why does it kill you, deep down inside, when you remember snapping my neck with your bare hands?"

"Leave me alone!" Angel screamed.

All at once, the apparitions vanished, and the room fell silent around Angel. He looked around, and found himself alone in the room of his mansion.

No, not alone.

"Hello!" said the man with the big ears and leather jacket, sitting on the bench directly across from Angel. He tucked a blue-tipped metallic device into his pocket. "Ready to talk?"

"Who… who are you, this time?" Angel asked.

"I'm the Doctor!" said the man, giving a wave.

Angel stumbled backwards, the moment he heard the name. His eyes growing wide, his entire body seized with an overwhelming tremble.

"What?" said the Ninth Doctor. "No hugs? No cheers? Not even a, 'thanks for chasing away the monsters conjured up by my own guilt-ridden imagination, Doctor'?"

"No!" Angel said, his voice shaking. "You can't… do this to me! You can't just appear as… as…"

"As someone you're scared to death of?" asked the Ninth Doctor. He grinned. "You're welcome! Think nothing of it!"

"I'm not going to give in," Angel insisted. "You can't intimidate me like this. I… I'd rather… kill myself than force Buffy like that." He set his jaw. "I _will_ kill myself."

The Ninth Doctor gave a sigh. "You know how hard it is, making it snow in Southern California?" He crossed his arms. "Wouldn't even seem like a Christmas miracle, this time."

Angel stared at him, confused.

"So," said the Ninth Doctor. "Like I said before. You ready to talk?"

"I… I won't… I can't…" Angel started. He swallowed. "Is this why you brought me back from Hell? To be some… pawn in your master-plan?"

The Ninth Doctor reflected. "Maybe a bit," he admitted. "After all, one little change, one small request, and the repercussions…" He paused.

"What request?" asked Angel. "What are you…? I mean, what am I…?"

"Hard, fighting a war, isn't it?" the Ninth Doctor asked. "Harder to lose one. Survive one. Decide you don't care, and make mistakes. Then live with the consequences." He glanced back at Angel. "It's why you came back from Hell."

Angel shivered. "What do you mean? Why am I here?"

The Ninth Doctor gave a small shrug. "Guilt."

* * *

The Mayor knelt down in the center of the circle, reciting the incantation for the Dedication Ceremony. The incantation that would make him invulnerable to any physical harm. The incantation that would allow him to Ascend.

The power rose around him, as if the Earth itself was buzzing inside his ears, and then suddenly…

The power turned on him.

Seized him.

The Mayor clawed at his throat, his eyes bulging, as he realized what was happening. Who had done it. And why. As he discovered that he had doomed himself.

And as the world faded to black around him, as he felt his life force slipping away, he caught sight of a pale face with spiky brown hair. And dark, dark eyes. Staring at him, through the window.

Then the figure touched a device on his wrist, and disappeared.

* * *

"Angel?" Buffy called, that night, as she ran into the mansion. She raced into the main room. "Angel, we've got a way larger problem! Gwendolyn Post isn't after the Glove, anymore, she's after…" Buffy stopped, as she got to the main room, to find Angel, trembling, in the middle of the floor. And a few feet away, dropped as if by accident…

The Glove of Mynhegon.

Buffy stared at Angel. "You didn't…"

"I… I'm sorry," said Angel. "I couldn't. Not without…" He faltered, as he met Buffy's eyes, then looked away. "The information. From the future. I had to... work it out on my own."

Buffy looked between Angel and the Glove. "I don't have time for this," she said, as she grabbed a piece of fabric and snatched up the Glove. She ran back to Angel, yanking him by the arm and dragging him out of the mansion and into the night air. "We can create the living flame in the vineyard. Right now, we've just got to get there. Only a Slayer can pull that Scythe out of the stone, and Faith's on her way."

"Buffy," Angel said. "I have to tell you something."

"Tell me later!" Buffy snapped, as she kept dragging him along.

"No, it's important," said Angel. "The… the reason I'm here… the reason I was dragged out of Hell… the First wants me to kill…"

"I know," said Buffy. She glanced behind her, at Angel, giving him a small smile. "But I also know you won't."

Angel seemed to find comfort in the smile. "You really…?"

"Yeah," said Buffy. She turned back, and yanked on Angel's arm. "Now, come on! Vineyard!"


	14. Chapter 14

"I thought you said there was supposed to be someone here," said Angel, as he faced the completely empty wine vineyard.

Buffy stepped forwards, glancing around herself. "We're too early," she muttered. "The First hasn't gotten here, yet." She stepped into the center of the room, hearing her footsteps echo. "Not a single Bringer."

"That's good, isn't it?" asked Angel.

Buffy stopped, beside a drooping ceiling beam. "I don't know," she admitted. "Even Caleb tricked us like this, back in 2003, and the Doctor's way smarter. He might… have…" Buffy paused, and squinted at the beam. She reached up, stroking the wood with her fingers. "Did it always say that?"

"Say what?" asked Angel, coming forwards, and examining the beam.

The words _Bad Wolf_ were graffitied into the wood.

Angel shook his head. "It's just… graffiti," he said. "Kids, you know?" He blew some dust off of it. "Probably been there for years."

Buffy just kept staring at it. "Rose called herself that. When she saved Dawn. She said she was the Bad Wolf."

"Who?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, when she caught something out of the corner of her eye, then pushed Angel aside, as Faith leapt out at them from the shadows. Faith tackled Buffy to the ground, the Glove of Mynhegon falling from Buffy's hands on impact.

"So, didn't destroy the Glove after all, did you?" asked Faith. "Wanted all that power for yourself?"

Buffy took a deep breath, then surged forwards, rolling Faith off of her and just barely darting out of the way of Faith's next blow.

"Angel!" Buffy shouted, as she flipped back to her feet. "The Glove!"

Faith kicked out at Buffy, who managed to duck under the leg, then grabbed Faith's arm before she could take another punch. Faith thrust Buffy against a wall, and struck out at her, again, but Buffy ducked just before Faith hit her.

She rolled across the ground, then popped up on her feet. "I don't want to fight you, Faith!" she shouted.

"If you hadn't noticed," said Faith, grabbing Buffy's arm and twisting her around, "you're evil. I'm not."

Buffy yanked herself free, but stumbled backwards, into one of the wine barrels. "I'm not evil!" she protested, leaping up to her feet. "You just don't get what I'm—"

"Oh, I get it," said Faith, punching at Buffy, who ducked. "You found a cool new weapon, and you've hidden it here so your friend, the First, can get its hands on it. Mrs. Post worked it all out."

"Post is the one who's evil!" Buffy retorted, grabbing Faith's leg and flipping her through the air. "She's using you to get what she wants! You have to believe me!"

"Funny," said Faith, somersaulting to her feet. "But I don't." She punched out, and Buffy caught the punch in her fist.

"If I'm evil," Buffy said, her eyes locked on Faith's. "Then why am I not trying to hurt you?"

Faith hesitated for a long moment, her eyes flicking down to her caught fist, then back to Buffy. Then, with a renewed determination, she grabbed Buffy's hand and twisted her arm around. "Nice try," she said, and slammed Buffy backwards, against the floor. "But if you're not working for the First, then how'd you find out about this place?"

"Because I'm from the future!" Buffy shouted. "How did _you_ find out?"

"Same way as you," Faith said, grabbing up a sword. "Your evil time traveling boyfriend. That one's a gloater, you know." She brought it down, and Buffy seized it between her hands, stopping it inches from her chest. The edge bore into her hands and she winced.

"Gloater?" Buffy said. That didn't sound right.

A growl, and Faith was bowled over by Angel, his face vampiric, his eyes focused and filled with love. Faith knocked him off of her, and dropped the sword, reaching instead for her stake.

"Oh, I'm gonna really enjoy staking you," she said.

She grabbed out at Angel's legs, hurling him over her head and slamming him into a wine crate, which shattered on impact.

Buffy leapt up, running forwards, but stopped as she heard Willow's voice call, "Buffy!"

The echo of two pairs of footsteps racing through the vineyard.

Buffy glanced up, just in time to see Post standing in the middle of the vineyard, her eyes gleaming in anticipation, as she slid the Glove onto her hand, and it fused with her flesh.

"Buffy!" Willow shouted. "It's a trap! This whole place is about to burn down! You've got to—"

"Get down!" Buffy shouted at Willow and Xander.

Willow and Xander both stared, speechless, as Post raised her gloved hand up to the sky, and shouted, "Ta hugan matmach mynhegon!"

And the rumble of thunder shook the vineyard.

Faith paused in her fight against Angel. She looked over at Post. "What's going on?"

"I told you!" shouted Buffy. "I told you she was evil!"

"Oh, I'm not evil," said Post, a gleam in her eyes. "It's only that, unlike Faith, I'm not an idiot." A bolt of lightning pierced through the ceiling of the vineyard, the wood smoldering with the residual fire. Then Post spun around, and pointed the Glove at Faith. "Ta vreem!"

Lightning shot out of the Glove, and Angel just barely managed to pull Faith out of the way in time. The wooden wall behind them exploded, showering splinters of wood down nearby, and Buffy felt her heart racing.

Oh, please, please make those splinters not have killed Angel! Please!

Buffy dove in after Angel and Faith, dragging them out from the shrapnel. Post spun around, directing her gloved hand at Willow and Xander.

"Ta vreem!" Post cried, and lightning shot out once more, Xander leaping on top of Willow and knocking her out of the way of the lightning.

The vineyard wall beside Buffy, Faith and Angel creaked, then collapsed into wood and flames, the fire shooting across the spilled wine and spreading throughout the vineyard basement.

Buffy began coughing, as she looked at the devastation surrounding her. And realized that Willow was right. This — all of this, from Angel not destroying the Glove, to this fight occurring down here, in the vineyard — really was a trap.

"The perfect tinderbox," Buffy rasped. "And we just lit a flame."

"What?" asked Faith. She coughed, then her eyes lit up, as she spotted something the flame had just burnt away. "Hey, trap door!"

Buffy's eyes widened, as she suddenly realized the true extent of the plan. Trying to find a Scythe that had been hidden in a basement made of wood. Trying to retrieve a weapon that could only be removed by a Slayer — by placing her and Faith here, and giving them an enemy to fight. Then burning everyone and everything else to the ground, to get the Scythe back. It was genius — even more ingenious than anything Caleb had thought up, back in her own reality.

Oh, this was going to be bad.

"Faith, don't—" Buffy started, but it was already too late.

Faith had pulled the Scythe right out of the stone.

"Hey, Mrs. Post!" shouted Faith, jumping through the opening, Scythe in hand. "Take this!" And she charged at Post, Scythe raised above her head.

Buffy glanced around, coughing, and spotted Willow passed out on the floor. Xander choking, barely able to breathe, clearly injured, but trying to make his way to Buffy, so he could save her.

"Angel," said Buffy, pointing at her friends. The friends who'd come to rescue her. The friends who'd come to save her from a trap she'd been too stupid to see.

(How'd they known? Who'd told them? Who'd have even known…? Oh, screw it, it was obvious, wasn't it? The one person who'd want them out of the way, while he took the Scythe for himself. The same person who'd told everyone else exactly where to find it. The one who needed no Bringers or Uber-Vamps to ambush them. Just made sure Buffy, Post, Faith, and the others were all here, at once, and let them ambush themselves.)

Angel nodded at Buffy, then darted forwards, dodging past Faith and Post, who were fighting, lightning-glove to Scythe, their moves almost too fast to make out, their bodies lost amidst the smoke.

Buffy tried to get to her feet, but there was too much smoke — no ventilation — and she couldn't breathe. Another sizzle of lightning smashed into a wine barrel, dashing it to pieces, the liquid fire spurting out across the vineyard. Buffy was too weak to dodge in time, and saw the flaming wine droplets rushing towards her, as if in slow motion.

Hands wrapped around her, pulling her away just before she was burned. Cool hands, comforting hands, hands that… through Buffy's oxygen-deprived brain… she thought were familiar…

A high pitched buzzing noise… echoing in her ears…

A voice she thought she recognized… except… she didn't…

It was warm… and the vineyard just wouldn't stop spinning, wouldn't stay in focus…

Buffy jerked up, air rushing into her lungs, the cool night air brushing against her face. She looked around. She was outside. How'd she gotten outside? Beside her, the vineyard was burning, huge chunks of burning wood crumbling as the fire consumed them, smoke billowing out from the wreckage.

She heard a twig snap, behind her, and spun around, just in time to catch a flash of black leather out of the corner of her eye, before it was gone. She got to her feet, steadying herself, then took a deep breath and ran back in.

Faith was still in there.

And Buffy had to get her out.

* * *

Post was dead. Faith was pretty sure.

Not that she could see through all the smoke.

Faith coughed, clutching the Scythe in her hands. The Scythe that she could feel resonating power through her. The Scythe that seemed to make her feel as if it were hers, and only hers, as if it had been created for her.

"Faith!" shouted a voice Faith knew only too well. She looked up. B, of course. Running down the stairs, back into the building. How'd she managed to get out, anyways?

Faith tried to give B a snappy comeback, or even just rush out of the building herself, but the strength she thought she had was gone, the air had disappeared from her lungs, and she felt herself falling, the Scythe tumbling from her hands.

Buffy caught her. Gathered Faith up, tucking the Scythe beneath her arms, and brought Faith out of the flames.

And continued in her mission to change the future.

* * *

Faith sucked air into her lungs, as she gasped back to consciousness. She grabbed at Buffy, as if frantically reaching for something real.

"Trap," she said. Then her eyes rested on the Scythe, lying on the ground beside them. She reached out for it, awe in her eyes. "To get that?"

"More powerful than a Glove," Buffy agreed.

Faith held it in her hands, measuring its weight and importance, feeling its raw power. Buffy let her.

"We've got to find Angel and get out of here," she told Faith. "The First wants that Scythe. It wanted us trapped down there, so we'd pull it out of the stone and then burn to death. There are going to be mega number of Bringers in about two seconds, and we've got to…"

Buffy heard the growl of the Uber-Vamp behind her before she saw it. She spun around and seized it by the shoulders, spinning it away from Faith and down to the ground.

"Faith, the Scythe!" she shouted, trying but failing to divert the vampire's attack.

Faith staggered to her feet, summoning all her strength, then hurdled towards the Uber-Vamp, who grabbed Faith's hand and tossed her away. Buffy punched the vamp in the head, and it turned around to snarl at Buffy. Faith kicked out at it, then sliced at the head with the Scythe.

The vampire dusted in the night air.

A rustle behind Faith. She spun around, Scythe in hand, and lunged forwards.

"Faith!" Buffy screamed, as she realized — too late — what was about to happen. "No!"

But it happened.

Just the way it had happened before.

Faith slicing at the mysterious stranger, assuming it was a vampire, and then watching, in horror, as the body didn't burst into dust. As the entirely human body slumped and collapsed upon the ground, the head tumbling off its shoulders.

Human head.

With human eyes, that stared at Buffy and Faith as if in betrayal.

With human blood, gushing as it seeped into the ground.

Faith stepped away, her breathing growing panicked, the Scythe dropping from her hands and clattering onto the ground. "I didn't…. I… I… didn't know," Faith said. Her hands shook. "I didn't know!"

Buffy felt herself go numb, as she stared at the dead human body. The Deputy Mayor's dead human body.

"It happened again," Buffy breathed. "Just like last time. I couldn't stop it."

Faith grabbed the Scythe off the ground, then dragged Buffy away. "We gotta go!" she shouted. Buffy resisted, and Faith snapped, a little louder, "Come on! We gotta go!"

Buffy just stared at the dead body on the ground, her entire world feeling like it had just collapsed. She had known the future. Known exactly how to prevent it.

And it had still happened.

"The way it always happens," came a male voice to Faith and Buffy's right.

They jumped, as they spun around, and found themselves face to face with the man they'd just killed. Stepping towards them, his eyes fixed on Buffy.

The First.

"Faith," said Buffy, "give me the Scythe."

Faith hesitated.

"Now!" Buffy screamed.

Faith handed her the Scythe, and Buffy braced herself with it, her eyes fixed on the First.

"I think you've missed the point of 'non-corporeal,'" said the First, gesturing down at his suit-attired body. "Not manifest. Nothing to kill."

"I can still kill your minions," said Buffy. "Now talk. What did you mean, 'the way it always happens'?"

The First's eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "You know exactly what I meant." It stepped closer. "Elizabeth."


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note: End of Part I. Part II starts in the next section.

Enjoy!

* * *

Buffy buried her face in her hands. "This is why the First brought me here," she whispered. "It has to be. The First is trying to drive me crazy."

Angel watched her with worried eyes, pacing around the main room of his mansion. "Faith...?"

"Probably out trying to ditch the body," said Buffy. She shivered. "I knew this would happen. I tried so hard to change it. And in the end, I couldn't..." She took a few deep breaths. "The First's right. I'm just like her."

"You're not like Faith," Angel reassured her.

"Not Faith," said Buffy. She couldn't meet Angel's eyes. "Before this crazy time thing, Giles said I changed. That if I were given the chance to do the whole Glory thing over, I'd push Dawn into the portal." She felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"Push who?" asked Angel.

"And Dawn said — when I was dead, Elizabeth arrived... and she was just like..." Buffy's breath caught in her throat. "The First's right," she whispered. "I am Elizabeth."

"Not exactly," came the Northern-English accented voice, from across the room.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. She so didn't need this right now.

"Fused timeline across a single individual," said the Ninth Doctor. "Line-Hopper. You get bits of her, she gets bits of you. Start off with the same person, yeah. But different circumstances, different choices, different friends guiding her along." The Ninth Doctor shrugged. "In the end, different person."

"Shut up," Buffy muttered.

"Still got a temporal echo, though," the Ninth Doctor acknowledged. "Strong connection between the two of you. That's why _you_ still react when I do this." He knocked on a wooden table four times in a row.

For no reason that Buffy could work out, a chill ran down her spine.

Angel just stared at the leather-jacketed man. "Buffy..."

"And she had bits of you in her," the Ninth Doctor continued. "After all, got her hands on a Type 1 Dalek Infiltration device, and didn't have the heart to use it. Gave it to someone she knew never would. Made sure it was out of her hands."

Buffy tried to block the sound of the First's voice out of her ears.

"Buffy," Angel said, a little louder, his hand resting on her shoulder. "You... you said the First couldn't touch anything."

"It can't," Buffy agreed.

"Then how," said Angel, his voice shaking, "did it just knock on that table?"

Buffy's eyes flew open, and her head shot up, staring at the person in front of her. The man in the leather jacket, who wandered over to a pile of fake fruit lining the mantle of the fireplace, and picked up an orange, tossing it from hand to hand.

"Bit tricky, Line-Hoppers," he said, throwing the orange to Angel, who caught it. "Like looking at two pictures at once. Sort of have to squint a bit to make 'em both out."

Buffy stared at the Ninth Doctor. "You... but you can..."

"What?" asked the Ninth Doctor.

"You're corporeal," Buffy said.

The Ninth Doctor adjusted his leather jacket. "Bout time you noticed. You'd think pulling someone out of a burning vineyard would be a pretty good indication..." waving his hand in the air, "...that you could touch."

Buffy's mind was racing, her entire idea of reality shattering, her entire world seeming to reassemble itself inside her head. "But... but that means..." she stared at him. "You're not the First."

"Course not!" exclaimed the Ninth Doctor, with a scoff. "You really think I'm some two-penny git who wanders around spouting rubbish and pretending to be dead people?"

"But I was talking to the First!" Buffy insisted. "When time got all reversed! He showed up as the Doctor—"

"And then I scared 'im off," the Ninth Doctor confirmed. He took out his sonic screwdriver and waved it at her, with a grin.

Angel blinked, his mouth falling open. "You... you scared away the First," he realized. "When it was trying to convince me... to sleep with..."

"You're welcome," said the Ninth Doctor, tucking his sonic into a pocket. "And thanks for skipping the tan. Don't like mucking about with the weather too much. You can only make it snow in the desert so many times before nosy humans begin noticing."

Buffy stared at the man with the leather jacket. "Who are you?"

"Wrong question," the Ninth Doctor told her. "What you should be asking is — if that vineyard was a trap for you and all your little friends, then why was someone missing?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, then stopped. Missing?

The vineyard had been a trap. Plain and simple. Make sure that Buffy, Faith, and everyone else were all concentrated together in the vineyard basement; make sure that either Faith or Buffy would be able to retrieve the Scythe, then burn everyone to ash and dig the Scythe out of the debris.

Except... someone was missing.

Rupert Giles.

_Five Watchers dead. Murdered by the Doctor. And no one knows when he's going to stop._

Buffy turned, and ran.

* * *

Buffy burst through the door to Giles' house, her eyes resting on the Doctor holding Giles up by the throat, pausing as if thinking over the possibilities.

"I was trying to put a stop to it," Giles insisted, his voice strained under the Doctor's clutches. "It's a barbaric and outdated custom, and—"

"You'd have done it anyways," the Doctor said. "Like all the rest of them. Always the same."

"Doctor," Buffy commanded, brandishing the Scythe in front of her. "Let him go. Now."

She had expected the Doctor to do exactly what Caleb had done. To back away, the moment he saw the Scythe. To do what she wanted. To try to convince her to hand the weapon over. But she should have remembered.

This was the Doctor.

He glanced over, and the moment he noticed the Scythe, his entire demeanor changed. A grin danced across his face, as he examined it, his eyes glowing with excitement.

"That's it," he said. He dropped Giles and ran over, his curiosity bubbling out of him until Buffy could nearly taste it in the air. He reached into his pocket and brought out his brainy specs, leaning in to inspect the weapon more closely. "Oh, what are you?"

Buffy blinked. "You... don't know?"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Know what it's _supposed_ to be. Problem is..." He gave his delighted, curious grin — the kind he always gave when there was something new and interesting to figure out, "...it's not that anymore."

"Huh?"

"Well," he said, "except for the color-scheme, it looks exactly like the Oblivion Scythe."

"The what?"

The Doctor turned to her, and for one moment, one aching moment, it was almost like old times.

"The Oblivion War," the Doctor explained. "77th century. One of the largest, most vicious wars in all of human history. Massive intergalactic conflict. Killed off half the population of five different galaxies." He nodded down at the Scythe. "Named after the emblematic weapon of the war — the Oblivion Scythe. A Scythe that looked just like this one, only black instead of red. One of the nastiest weapons the human race has ever created. It was designed to rip a hole in the fabric of space and time, and use the resulting exposed brane to drag any nearby planet into... well, suppose you could say into Hell." He shrugged. "Inverted spacio-temporal field, if you want to get technical. Black sky, burning fires, eternal torment and agony, that sort of thing." His eyes shifted back to the Scythe. "Moment a planet went in there... the space-time hole sealed. No way to bring it back. Countless planets sentenced to oblivion."

Buffy looked down at the Scythe as well. She suddenly felt a lot more reluctant to use it. "That's what this thing does?"

"What it's _supposed_ to do," the Doctor corrected. "In the 77th century." A curious, excited smile danced across his lips. "Someone has taken one of the most infamous symbols of death, war, and bloodshed, plucked it out of time, given it some other purpose, and brought it here." The Doctor shook his head. "Incredible!"

"But… you don't know what it does, now?" Buffy confirmed.

"Nope!" said the Doctor. "Not a clue." He looked up at her, his smile illuminating his face, his excitement infectious. "Isn't that brilliant?"

And he seemed so like he had been back when Buffy had known him before. So much like that old Doctor that she'd fallen in love with, the one that hadn't wanted to conquer or slaughter or rule. The one that just wanted to _know_, to see the universe and work out its mysteries, to travel and explore and risk his life to save others.

Buffy stepped back, hugging the Scythe to her a little tighter. No. This wasn't the Doctor. Not anymore. He had become evil incarnate. The servant of the First. He had been that close to killing Giles, two seconds ago — and the Doctor Buffy knew and loved would never, _ever _have done that.

"I know this Scythe can kill you," said Buffy. Her eyes narrowed. "_I_ can kill you."

The Doctor thought this over. "Well, yes, suppose you _can_," he said. Then gave her a pointed look. "But you won't."

Buffy said nothing.

The Doctor turned on his feet, and caught up the form of Rupert Giles, who'd been sneaking up on him from behind. The Doctor let the man dangle, feet in midair, as he held him by his shirt collar.

"And why should I let him go?" the Doctor asked. "He's one of _them_. The Watchers. The Descendants of the Shadow Men. The problem."

There it was. That spark of coldness and mercilessness in the Doctor's eyes that hadn't been there before. Except... there was a genuine curiosity in his voice, as well. As if... Buffy could convince him. As if he was willing to hear her out.

"I know what the Shadow Men did," said Buffy. "I met them. I told them it was wrong. And then I kicked their asses." She adjusted her grip on the Scythe. "But you can't blame Giles for that. Or the Watchers Council. It happened millennia before any of them were born."

"The Watchers Council," the Doctor scoffed. "Butchers. Child-murderers. An institutionalized slaughter-house. From the beginning of their history straight through to the end. Every single day, they sentence countless innocent people to death."

"So do you!" Buffy shouted.

The Doctor said nothing for a long moment. Then gave a half-shrug. "Fair point." He threw Giles onto the floor, with a bang that resonated through the air. Then looked back at Buffy. "I still have to kill him, though."

"I won't let you," Buffy challenged him.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her. "If you had any idea what he was planning," he said, "you'd agree with me. I'm killing him for you, after all."

"For _me_?" Buffy cried. She took a step forwards. "Is that why you're doing all of this? To make me happy? You're killing my friends just because you think it'll make me feel better?"

"To save your life," the Doctor countered. "But, yes. The idea is the same."

"You caught me in a trap that was intended to kill me," said Buffy, taking another step forwards. "How's _that_ saving my life?"

"It wouldn't have killed you," the Doctor assured her. "It was designed to kill Faith. Not you." He gave her a grin, and a wink. Then he glanced down at Giles, unconscious, on the floor. "Now! Lovely as this chat is, I've got other things to do. So if you don't mind, I'll just kill him and get on with it."

Buffy interposed herself between the Doctor and Giles in an instant.

"You'll have to go through me first," Buffy warned.

The Doctor gave her an amused glance. "No, I won't."

Buffy raised her Scythe.

The Doctor snatched it out of her hands, faster than she could register, then stepped back before she could retrieve it.

"It really does look exactly the same," the Doctor said, looking the Scythe over. "Except — did a scan, earlier. The artron signature, the time-shifted potential, the sheer amount of temporal energy pouring through it..." He bent down to examine it a little closer. "Who created you?" he asked it. "Who could have had the power, the insight, the knowledge to design something like _this_?"

"If I told you," said Buffy, "you'd kill them, too."

The Doctor thought a moment. "Nah, waste of time," he decided. He darted out of the way of her next attack, then tossed the Scythe to her. "Keep it."

Buffy caught the Scythe, then froze, as the statement worked through her mind. "You... _want _me to have it?"

"Why not?" the Doctor said, with a grin.

Buffy backed away, very slowly, then put the Scythe down on the floor and stepped away from it.

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at her. "You really _do_ know me," he observed.

"Well enough to know that when you let someone have a weapon," said Buffy, "it's for a reason."

The Doctor looked her over with that same burning curiosity shining through him. That same excited desire to work it all out and put everything in its place. "Interesting."

Was that all he wanted her for? A curiosity? Something to figure out? A mystery for him to solve? Was that as far as his affection went, in this reality? So much for 'come with me.'

Buffy glanced over at Giles, and a thought struck her. She turned back to the Doctor. "If you harm Giles," she warned, "or any of my friends — in any way — I'll never come with you."

All traces of amusement fell from his face at those words. "Never?"

"Never ever in a million years," Buffy said. "I swear it."

The Doctor considered this, his face deadly serious, his eyes searching her own. Then he stepped away from Giles. "All right."

Buffy blinked. "All right what?"

"All right," the Doctor clarified. "I won't kill him."

As if it was that easy. As if it hadn't even mattered to him. One life, more important to Buffy than so many others, and the Doctor hadn't even cared.

Buffy tried to catch her breath, as he walked up to her, his trainers padding across the carpet, his brown eyes still fixed on her own. But the closer he got, the more her heart beat, the more she felt lightheaded and bubbly, the more she felt like she always had, in her own reality, when he showed up. Back when he'd had a soul. Back when he'd cared about people.

He took her hand in his own — gently.

"You're not ready, yet," he observed. "You won't come."

"No," Buffy agreed. Her voice coming out as barely more than a whisper.

"You will," the Doctor assured her. "When you understand. When you see what I see. You'll abandon them all. And help me."

Buffy didn't answer.

He patted her hand, then released it, and pushed past her, his trench-coat flying behind him with every step.

"Wait!" she shouted after him.

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her, his expression as innocuous as it had ever been when he was good.

"When... did you first meet me?" she asked, her voice shaking a little.

"Which you?" the Doctor asked. "This you, or the one you replaced, back in the TARDIS? Or the one I met back in my eighth incarnation?"

"The Buffy me," said Buffy. She fidgeted in place. "_Any_ Buffy me."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "November 6th, 1998."

"When you were still looking... like this?" Buffy asked, gesturing at him.

"Yes." He gave her a very intense look. "Why?"

Buffy didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because she'd just worked everything out. Why she'd been whisked back to this exact moment in history. Why the First had been able to establish so much control. Why the other timelines and temporal flux and possibilities had disappeared.

She'd sent her psychic paper messages to the Doctor. The tenth Doctor.

But they'd been picked up by his younger self.

Who'd responded to her call.

What the Doctor had said to Angel, in her old reality, during the lead-up to the Mayor's Ascension — meeting someone before you were supposed to — _that's a universe-destroyer right there_. What everyone had been shouting at her, this whole time — _what have you done?_ What the Ninth Doctor had said — _one wish, and everything changes._

She'd wished the Doctor was here. And he'd come. The wrong Doctor. The wrong order. Buffy's messages had caused the Doctor to meet her before he was supposed to. And she knew what that meant.

She — Buffy Anne Summers — had screwed up the universe.


	16. Part II

Part II

...

Buffy sat in her mother's spare art studio. In the center of the floor. Hands in her lap. Eyes closed. Thinking.

"You miss her," observed the Ninth Doctor.

Buffy didn't open her eyes. Or jump at the fact he'd shown up without making a noise. He always snuck up on her like this. "All the time."

The Ninth Doctor said nothing for a moment, the sounds of the house echoing through both their ears.

Then he laughed.

"You humans," he muttered. "Tiny little brains. How do you stand it?"

Buffy opened one eye. "This you has a bit of a mean-streak. You know that?"

The Ninth Doctor gestured at the world around him. "All this," he said to her, "and that's the one thing you focus on. The one thing you can't get over. Dawn Summers."

"I know, I know," Buffy sighed, closing her eyes, again, and leaning back on her hands. "I should be worrying about the world falling apart and the murders and stopping… you know. The other Doctor." She felt her heart sink. "But…" she shook her head. "She's my sister."

The Ninth Doctor absorbed this. "Yeah," he said, at last. She could hear him pacing across the room, his boots thudding against the wood floor. "But _she's_ your mum."

Buffy's eyes popped open, and she found herself staring at the Ninth Doctor, who nodded at the propped-open door. The door through which Buffy could hear her mom cooking dinner.

"She's dead," Buffy whispered.

"Pretty active for a dead person," the Ninth Doctor commented. He leaned against the doorway, his hands in his leather jacketed pockets. "Tell her."

Buffy shook her head.

"Go on!" said the Ninth Doctor. "Easiest thing in the world. Just tell her you love her."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. "I _can't_."

"Why not?" asked the Ninth Doctor. "She's here. You're here. You've got a voice-box. She's got ears. Perfect combination."

"I just… can't," said Buffy. She felt herself trembling, a little. "Every time I see her, I remember… she's going to die. She's going to die and there's nothing I can do about it. A fixed point in time." She felt her jaw trembling. "All the medical science in the world couldn't save her."

The Ninth Doctor nodded. "So tell her."

"I can't!" Buffy shouted. She jumped to her feet and rounded on him. "What's it matter to you? It's none of your business, anyways! She's _my_ mother!"

"I'm nosy," the Ninth Doctor replied, with a shrug. He pointed at her, his blue eyes boring into her own. "You said you never told your Mum you loved her. You said you were afraid she never knew. It was eating you up inside that you couldn't tell her, after she was dead."

Buffy clenched her jaw, and turned away. "I was a different person, when I said that."

The Ninth Doctor gave her a skeptical look.

"I've been dragged out of the grave, and thrown into a war against a being of pure evil and his undefeatable armies," Buffy snapped. "I've watched everyone around me die. I've sent young girls into battle and watched them terrified and screaming, butchered by beings with no pity, no mercy, no compassion." She stepped towards the Ninth Doctor, fire in her eyes. "Giles was right, in my old reality, when he told me I've changed. But I didn't have a choice. I changed because I _needed_ to change. I _needed_ to be hard and unyielding, because otherwise, I'd fall apart. And the First would take over the world." She glared at him. "Do you get that?"

The Ninth Doctor met her gaze evenly. "Yeah."

Buffy spun around, and went over to the window, her eyes fixed out into the distance. "Just let me miss my sister in peace, okay? Just for a little while."

The Ninth Doctor said nothing.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder, but he'd already gone.

* * *

"You certain?" Giles asked Buffy, in the library, the next school day. Which was Monday.

"Definitely," said Buffy, throwing the newspaper down onto the table. The headline, _Mayor Wilkins dies in Satanic Ritual,_ clear to all. "Make the enemy kill themselves. Classic Doctor."

Willow frowned, and grabbed the paper, reading through the article again. "I thought this was some ritual-sacrifice-gone-wrong thing."

"This ritual was supposed to make the Mayor invulnerable to any physical harm," Buffy told them. "It was for the lead-up to his Ascension. The Doctor must have sabotaged the spell-book he was using. Or the stuff that channeled the energy. Or… whatever."

"Uh, Buff?" said Xander. "Small problem." He tapped a paragraph of the paper. "This says the Doctor was seen by the Mayor's office that night. At 8:15 pm."

"And he was with Xander and me," Willow added. "Being all evil and menacing and gloating about how he'd trapped you in some fire inferno and if we didn't hurry up and rescue you, you'd die."

"And right before that, he was with Faith and Mrs. Post," said Xander. "Telling them where to find the Scythe."

"And none of us were anywhere near the Mayor's office," said Willow. "We were all at the other end of town."

Buffy felt a chill run down her spine. The Doctor. In two different places. At the same time.

"It's a future him," she breathed.

She wanted to hit her head on something. Of course he'd fix the TARDIS! Of course he'd work out some way to make sure he could still travel through time. She should have guessed that.

"We've got to stop him," she told everyone. "Right now. Before he gains the ability to travel through time. As soon as he has that, we're in serious trouble."

Giles gave a little shrug, then tucked a number of books beneath his arm. "Well, rest assured, I'll bring it up to the Council at their emergency meeting."

Buffy snapped her head over to Giles. "At their _what_?"

"Quentin Travers has called an emergency meeting for all Watchers," Giles explained. "To discuss how to combat the current situation. I'm leaving tonight."

It was happening again. Just the way it had, in Buffy's reality. The emergency meeting. All Watchers gathering together, in the same place at the same time. In London.

And the Doctor could get from Sunnydale to London instantaneously.

"He's going to blow it up," Buffy said.

Giles paused, his grip tightening around the book. "I'm sorry?"

"The Doctor's going to blow up the Watchers Council!" Buffy said. "Just like Caleb! He's going to kill everyone inside! An emergency meeting, Giles! All Watchers, gathered together, in the same place at the same time. You think he wouldn't take advantage of that?"

Giles frowned. "Oh, dear."

"But you can warn them, right?" Willow proposed. "You can cancel the meeting or something."

"We must find a way to deal with this mess," Giles insisted. "It is our duty as Watchers to discover something." He put the books away on the shelf. "I'll go to the Council and warn them of the danger. We'll disable the bomb, and reconvene the session."

Buffy stared at him. "Are you insane? You guys _can't_ meet!"

"We must," Giles replied. "As a Watcher, it is my sacred duty—"

"To get yourself killed?" Buffy shouted. "The Doctor's not stupid, Giles. He wants all you guys dead, and some little bomb-squad isn't going to stop him!"

Giles looked away, his face set. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I must go. I… simply… must."


	17. Chapter 17

"Oh, so just because _you're_ the great Buffy Summers, _you_ call dibs on the super-weapon?" Faith demanded. She folded her arms. "I was the one who pulled it out of the vineyard, you know. That makes it mine."

"We can't use it," Buffy said, for what was probably the hundred billionth time. "Neither of us. If we ever use it, we'll die. Or... possibly... send the planet to Hell."

Faith shook out her hair. "Know what I think?" she asked. "I think you're worried I'm going to use it to slice up all your evil boyfriends. And that's why you've gone grabby-grabby."

"I know how the Doctor operates," Buffy explained. "He gives his enemies weapons he's sabotaged, so that the moment they use them, they kill themselves. He _wants_ us to have the Scythe, Faith. That means that whatever the Scythe's supposed to do, it's not doing it anymore!"

"And what's it supposed to do?" Faith challenged.

Buffy paused. "I don't know," she admitted.

Faith threw her hands in the air. "What a surprise!"

Buffy fixed her eyes off into the distance, ideas tumbling through her head. "But I know someone who does."

* * *

Buffy arrived in the crypt, Scythe in hand, an hour later. Peering around. Looking for someone. Anyone.

No one.

"Hello?" she called. She peered behind the drape thing that had concealed the woman before — in Buffy's reality. The woman who'd known all about the Scythe. "Mrs. Really-Old-Guardian Lady?"

"Ah," came the Ninth Doctor's voice, from behind Buffy. "This is where it gets confusing."

Buffy swung around. "Are you following me or something?"

"Sort of, yeah," the Ninth Doctor confirmed, hopping into the crypt. "Have to, round here. Dangerous place."

"I'm the Slayer," said Buffy. "I do dangerous on a regular basis." She nodded at the curtained partition. "Why's Really-Old-Guardian-Lady not here?"

"Guardians," the Ninth Doctor mused. He walked over to the curtained partition, his head bent down in thought. He gave a dry laugh. "Didn't realize those women called themselves that."

"What?"

The Ninth Doctor looked up at her. "Know what they were, the Universal Guardians?" he asked. "Great big pan-dimensional sorts. Bit like — what was her name? Crazy blond lady? Could punch through walls? Always blathering on about some Key?"

"Glory?"

"That's the one," the Ninth Doctor said, with a grin. "Bit like her — the Universal Guardians. Crazy. Daft. No emotions or empathy. Always fightin'. There were two of 'em, typically, you know. Each one balancing the other out. White Guardian and Black Guardian. Guardian of Good, Guardian of Evil. Guardian of Violins, Guardian of Electric Guitars. That sort of thing."

"And Mrs. I-Created-The-Scythe was one of the good ones," Buffy said. "Cool. So where is she?"

"Thing is," the Ninth Doctor continued, "the Guardians all left. Fled during the Time War. None of them remain in our universe — and I should know." He looked over at the partition, thinking, a wistful smile on his face. "Funny, that the other lot called themselves the 'guardians'. Must have worked out more about the current situation than I thought. Clever bunch of women, they were."

"Why isn't Super-Old-Guardian-Lady here?" Buffy demanded, her voice biting.

The Ninth Doctor's eyes snapped back to her, and he sent her a grin that seemed to light up his face. "She never came here," he said. "Not in this reality."

"But she said she'd been hanging out for thousands of years!" Buffy protested. "Just waiting for me or another Slayer to find the Scythe, then come over and say hi. What's this? Her lunch-break?"

The Ninth Doctor leaned against the wall. "Law of cause and effect isn't as simple as you humans like to think," he pointed out. "Sometimes you see the effects in the past, when their cause is way in the future. Like with Adam and the Daleks. You remember? Year 2000. You were with that insane beefcake bloke that had a thing for vampire prostitutes."

Buffy brushed off the jab about Riley, as she puzzled through all the rest of it. "You're saying… the guardian person who met me here, before, to explain the Scythe… was a time-traveler?"

"Nah," the Ninth Doctor dismissed. "Not _her_. She was just an alien. Long-lived race. Sweet girl, though. I called her Alice." He paused. "Course, in this reality, all that never happened. Like I said. Cause never took place; effect never followed. Alice and her pals never arrived on Earth, never found out about the Shadow Men, never formed their little club, and never constructed the Scythe."

Buffy looked down at the Scythe in her hand. Then held it up for the Ninth Doctor. "Then why's this here?"

"I put it here," the Ninth Doctor replied.

"What?" Buffy said. "_You?_ Why?"

The Ninth Doctor shrugged. "You told me to."

Buffy's mouth fell open. "When?"

"Some point in the temporal nexus that comprises your human understanding of time," the Ninth Doctor informed her. "Not sure when, exactly. Never get the conversion right."

Buffy didn't know what that meant. But she knew one thing.

"You get this straight," said Buffy, crossing her arms. "I _never_ asked you to bring the Scythe into Evil-Doctor Sabotage Territory. I _never_ asked you to change history! I might have asked you to come here, but it was a mistake! I didn't want you. I wanted the Doctor that already met me."

"Nah, definitely me you wanted," the Ninth Doctor said. "Double-checked." He checked off the points on his fingers. "Wanted: Me. An army. A way to fight back. A massive temporal rewrite. Some sign 'e was still alive. And some way you could find 'im." He gave a shrug, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Told you before. Should be more careful what you wish for."

Buffy felt herself seething. "Is this what you used to be like when you were young? All… black jackets and… stupid ears… and insulting humans… and… and… vengeance demony?!"

The Ninth Doctor threw his arms up into the air. "Right! Fine! You don't want my help, you stop the torture and save the human race from imminent destruction yourself!" He spun around and walked out of the crypt. "See if I care!"

Buffy hesitated. What the hell was he talking about? But she brushed it off, as she narrowed her eyes and shouted back, "Then I will!"

* * *

The entire Watchers Council had been evacuated, and the bomb squads called in. Every single square inch of the building had been searched. Every corner, every nook, every cranny.

"Site's clean," the bomb squad reported.

Giles stared at the building, his eyes wide. "But that's… I mean, why the devil wouldn't he…?"

Travers cleared his throat, officiously, as he turned to face Giles. "Rupert Giles, if you're through wasting the Council's time, we do have matters of some importance to attend to."

"But there's no reason he wouldn't do it!" Giles insisted. "For all she's been acting a little mad, recently, Buffy is right. This is the perfect opportunity for the Doctor to rid himself of the Watchers Council once and for all."

Travers gave a small sigh. "Rupert. It's obvious to all of us why you're really here, feeding us these false threats. We have real matters of business to discuss. Important matters. And you're here to ensure we don't discuss them."

Giles stepped forwards, his eyes blazing. "There are far more important matters to discuss than…" He trailed off, glancing around. "…_that_," he said, his voice a little lower. "The Slayer line is being wiped from the face of the Earth, this entire world is in danger — and you're concerning yourself with a barbaric practice that should have been thrown in the rubbish bin ages ago."

"The Council is well aware of your feelings on the subject, Rupert," Travers replied. "As you have expressed, these are dark times. If we are to survive them, you cannot have this sort of emotional attachment. You demonstrate a father's love for the child."

Giles felt his face turn red. "Can't you see how ludicrous this is?" he cried. "Especially at a time like this? We are placing her in a position where she is vulnerable, just when the First is poised to take full advantage."

"It is merely a test of her worthiness as a Slayer," Travers explained, calmly.

"It's not a test!" Giles shouted. "At this time, in these conditions — you are sending Buffy to her death! You are dooming her, and you are dooming the entire world!"

Travers was unaffected by Giles' rage. Simply dusted off his suit jacket, and gazed at Giles with a calmness that reeked of emotional detachedness. "I'm surprised by your sudden enthusiasm on the subject. A week ago, you were vocally against the test, but willing to acquiesce for the greater good. Yet, here you are, flown all the way out to England — simply to plead your case, in person, for your Slayer."

"I was nearly murdered for going along with something I know is wrong," Giles said. "And I may disagree with his methods and his decision to kill me, but in the end, he was right. This is barbarism, plain and simple, and I cannot allow it to continue."

Travers laughed. "You are taking advice from someone who wants to destroy our entire Institution?" he asked. "Someone who honestly desires your Slayer's death? Someone who takes pleasure from murder and mayhem?"

Giles didn't have a good answer to this.

"Now, if you're through with your hypocrisy and misplaced affections," Travers continued, "we must reassemble this emergency meeting of the Watchers Council at once." He paused. "Unless there's some other 'threat' you wish to 'warn' us about?"

"No, sir," Giles muttered.

"Some sort of… super-intelligent algae growing in the basement, perhaps?" Travers asked. "Maybe a particularly loud dog that might bark our ears off? Or even a demonic visitation from the imagination of J.K. Rowling?"

The Watchers around Travers laughed, as they all flocked back into the Watchers Council building. Giles stayed behind, a moment, staring at the still-standing building. Trying to think it through. Trying to work out why.

Why?

Why would the Doctor do nothing?

Giles turned to follow the others into the building, then paused, and glanced back. At the shop opposite him.

The Bad Wolf Boutique.

What an odd name for a boutique. And what an odd thing he hadn't noticed it before. Had it always been called that? Of course it had. Silly that he hadn't remembered.

He sighed, then re-entered the Watchers Council.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Well, I've been on the phone with my internet provider for 3 days straight, now, going through customer service hell. But the internet's finally back online!

Hurray!

* * *

"Buffy?" came her mom's voice.

Buffy huddled on the couch, trying not to look at her. Trying not to interact with her. Because it broke Buffy's heart every time she did.

(And every time she didn't.)

Her mom waved the phone in the air. "It's Mr. Giles," she said.

Buffy got up off the couch in an instant, and spun on her feet, rushing towards the phone. She stopped, the moment her eyes fell on her mother.

Her mom.

Her mommy.

She'd been dead, lying on the couch, and Buffy hadn't been able to save her. No one had been able to save her. The surgery to remove the tumor had failed. Would always fail. In any timeline. Fixed. Had to happen. Had to die.

A lifeless corpse.

"Is something wrong, sweetie?" Buffy's mom asked. Her living, breathing mom. Her wonderful, amazing, mom-ish mom.

Buffy tried her hardest to hold back tears, as she ran forwards and swept her mom into the tightest hug she could.

"Mom," she said, through a sniffle. "I love you. I really — _really_ — love you."

Her mom seemed a little taken aback by the affection, and looked Buffy over, curiously. Then she hugged Buffy back, patting her shoulder gently.

"It's the end of the world, again, isn't it?" she asked her daughter.

Buffy opened her mouth to negate this. But realized she couldn't.

* * *

"He did _nothing_?!" Buffy cried. She racked her brain. "It's… a trick. There's something you're overlooking. Something really obvious. Some bomb that one of you Watchers has already brought into the building voluntarily, without even knowing it!"

Giles paused a moment. "He hasn't… shown up there?" he asked. "In Sunnydale?"

"No."

"Buffy," said Giles, in a hard voice, "don't lie to me. The fate of the world may depend on this."

Buffy sighed. "You think I don't know that? I keep telling you, I'm not your 18-year-old Buffy. I'm 22, Giles, I know about—"

"Seventeen."

Buffy stopped. "What?"

"You're… seventeen, at the moment," Giles muttered. "Or supposed to be. Not eighteen."

Buffy's jaw fell open, and her eyes widened, as she suddenly realized what everyone had been talking about. Why the Doctor had been so intent on killing Giles. Why Giles had been so insistent that he go to the Watchers Council in person. Why the Doctor was waiting to blow them all up.

"He wants you to know why," Buffy breathed.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's the test!" Buffy shouted. "The Cruciamentum test! The… locking me in a room with a vampire after you get rid of all my Slayer powers test! He's waiting until you talk about that, because he wants you to know why he's killing you! The moment you bring any of that up, your building is gonna go boom!"

"How… how do you know about…?" Giles trailed off, as he seemed to realize. That she was from the future. That she _would_ know. "I suppose it doesn't really matter, then, if I tell you that yes, there is a test, and I happen to be completely against it."

"Giles," said Buffy, "get the Watchers Council out of there. Before every single one of you dies!"

* * *

It hadn't worked, of course.

"You're like the boy who cried, 'Bad Wolf!'" Travers had said. "We've had more than enough of your stalling."

Giles blinked. "Sorry, _Bad_ Wolf?"

Odd. Very odd.

The Watchers had discussed the First. They had discussed the Doctor. They had discussed the Cruciamentum test.

And still. Nothing.

Giles couldn't work it out. Surely the Doctor, who had been so intent on killing every Watcher he came across, along with each of the Potential Slayers, would have taken advantage of this particular situation. Surely he would have done exactly what Buffy had said.

But he hadn't.

Hadn't destroyed them all. Hadn't stopped them from formulating a plan against him. Hadn't prevented them from plotting his downfall. Every library resource in the world dealing with the First was located right here, in the Watchers Council. All being used, accessed, and memorized by the Watchers.

And the Doctor had done nothing. Nothing at all.

Giles went down, the next day, into the basement to snoop around on his own. His gut kept telling him that Buffy was right — had to be right. There was something he was missing. Something he should be noticing. Something else going on. Perhaps something to do with this… 'Bad Wolf' that kept coming up.

He stopped, as he noticed the large, heavy-duty prison located at the center of the basement.

He had known, of course, that the Watchers Council had a number of prisons in its basement — but he had never seen this one before. It was a prison that spoke of fear — such a profound fear that it was startling. Every security system they could think of had been applied. Locks upon locks upon locks. Along with amulets, charms, alarms, heavy-sealed doors, and a plethora of Torchwood technology.

Any being who inspired this sort of fear — why would the Watchers Council want them alive?

"My prison cell," came a voice from behind Giles. "They were so afraid of me. Back when I cared. Back when I wouldn't have hurt a single one of them." A small laugh. "If they hadn't locked me up, perhaps none of this would have happened."

Giles turned, but knew who he'd see before he saw him. The tall, lanky figure in the pinstripe suit, dark eyes leveled at Giles.

Buffy wasn't here, this time.

"Sorry about the tardy arrival," said the Doctor. "Got a bit sidetracked. Well, you know how it is." He tilted his head to the side, reflecting. "Turns out — this incarnation? Not a big fan of religious blokes." He made a face. "Particularly not preachers."

Giles backed away, eyes searching for a weapon nearby. "You killed another human being."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "And let him get away with all that? Nah." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Teleported him into the center of a supernova, then time-looped the second just before he died. Eternity spent being ripped apart at 30,000 kilometers per second." He frowned. "Better than Caleb deserved, really. I must be going soft."

"You're a monster," Giles informed him.

The Doctor's eyes darkened. "Maybe Caleb should have thought twice before calling Rose Tyler a 'filthy whore'." He shrugged, and the darkness left him. In fact, a smile touched his lips. "Still. All worth it, in the end." He glanced down at his wrist, where a chunky black watch-looking-thing now lay. One he hadn't had before. He tapped its surface. "Bought me a bit of time."

Giles backed away, further.

The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets, and bounced on his trainers, a grin spreading across his face. "So, Rupert Giles! What have you been up to, since the last time we met?"

"Since you tried to murder me, you mean?" asked Giles. "Two days ago? If it interests you, I've been trying to plot your downfall."

The Doctor scratched his head. "Only two days?" He shrugged. "Bit longer for me. What with the vortex manipulator. Wibbly wobbly. And all that."

Giles reached around to the front of the prison, grabbing for one of the charms. A blue crystal.

"Wouldn't do that, actually," the Doctor warned him. "Blue crystal. Actually the core from a highly volatile nuclear reactor. In the old days, I'd have done everything in my power to make sure it didn't harm anyone. But now? Hardly matters, any more."

Giles paused, his hand centimeters from the crystal in question. What Buffy had said — _some bomb that one of the Watchers has already brought into the building, voluntarily, without even knowing it_ — echoed through his mind.

That was how the Doctor disposed of his enemies. Killing them with their own weapons.

(No wonder Buffy had firmly decided not to use the Scythe.)

"It was broken, before, of course," the Doctor continued. "I fixed it. A few days ago."

"Then why haven't you used it, yet?" Giles demanded. "Blown us all to pieces?"

The Doctor stared at Giles, a very intense look in his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you," Giles replied. "You're a murderer, a monster, and a killer. If it were up to me, you'd have been dead long ago."

"Then why did you listen to me?" the Doctor asked.

Giles faltered. "I don't follow."

The Doctor stepped forwards, but there was something shining through his face, now, a sort of animated curiosity and a hint of — was that worry? "I used to think that all life was sacred. That I could save everyone. I used to give so many chances. But no one ever listened. No one ever took that chance. No one ever stopped." He paused, his eyes unfocused, drifting off into the distance. "And because of that — because I wanted to give others a chance — I lost everyone. Everyone I ever cared about." He looked back at Giles. "And it made sense to me, finally. That if I want to save the people I care about, I just have to get rid of everyone else. Because they're never going to change. They're never going to listen." He raised one eyebrow at Giles. "But you did."

"Perhaps more people would listen to you if you stopped trying to murder them," Giles retorted.

"Nah," said the Doctor. "Tried that. Nine hundred years, I tried that. Never made the slightest bit of difference." He paused, reflecting. "Maybe that's it. Maybe it's trying to kill people that makes them listen. Maybe, if I want Buffy to live, I just have to threaten—"

"Has it ever occurred to you," Giles cut in, "that _I_ might not want Buffy to die, either?"

"Because you're trying to use her for your own benefit," the Doctor said, with a sigh. "I know. It's the same with all you Watchers."

Giles pointed a finger at the Doctor. "_You_ are the one trying to use her for your own benefit," he said. "I'm simply doing what's right for her."

"And that's why you were ready to kill her?" the Doctor asked, his teeth bared, his eyes dark. "To destroy all of her defenses and lock her in a room with an insane vampire?"

"You trapped her in a basement you knew was about to burn down!" Giles said.

The Doctor shrugged. "She wouldn't have died. Someone wanted her to have that Scythe. Specifically _her_. They wouldn't have let her die getting her hands on it." He gave a pensive frown. "Amazingly powerful, that Scythe is. Brilliantly powerful. I wonder what it does."

"And I suppose you want to use my life to bargain for it, then?" Giles said. "But you'll have to wait a long time. Because I'm hardly going down without a fight."

The Doctor actually laughed at this. "The Scythe? Worthless!" His eyes glowed, as his brain worked through the possibilities. "I want the being who designed it." He leaned in closer. "And do you know why, Mr. Giles?"

"So you can kill them?" Giles guessed.

The Doctor grinned. "Oh, no," he said. "I'm not an idiot, like Caleb. I know precisely how powerful the Scythe's designer would have to be. And — power like that — I'd know exactly how to use it."

Giles felt his mouth drop open, and wasn't sure what to say.

The Doctor stepped back, studying Giles with curious eyes. "You're a mystery to me, Mr. Giles." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But one I don't have time to solve, I'm afraid. Quite busy, at the moment. People to find, places to be. And that Order of Dagon — do you have any idea how difficult it is to track them down? Blimey, you'd think they were expecting me!"

"Order of what?"

"I'd go back to the seventies and steal it, then," said the Doctor. "When it was still a segment floating about in hyperspace. Except if I did that, I'd wind up running into myself. All curls and teeth and big long scarves. 'Sanctity of life' and all that rubbish I used to believe in — well, I'd probably wind up stopping me."

Giles had no idea what the Doctor was going on about, now.

"Still, first things first," the Doctor continued. "This building isn't going to blow itself up."

Giles reached for a metal pipe on the floor, but found himself shoved backwards, against the door of the cell, which flew open with a buzz from the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. And Giles crashed to the floor, inside.

"A symbolic gesture, really," the Doctor explained, adjusting his sonic. "Not that it'll matter, much, in the long-run. Just felt it should be done. Justice for your actions in the Oblivion War."

"I'll stop you!" Giles insisted, getting to his feet. "I swear, I'll…"

The door to the cell slammed shut, separating the two men.

"If it's any consolation," the Doctor's voice boomed through the loudspeaker system in the tiny cell, "you won't remember any of this. In fact, you won't be you for very much longer, Rupert Giles."

Giles pounded his fists against the door, trying desperately to get it open.

Then the bomb went off.

* * *

Buffy sat on the ground, hugging her knees. She didn't have to look up to know who it was that had just approached her.

"Come begging for forgiveness?" she asked.

"Didn't think I should leave you on your own," the Ninth Doctor replied. "Dangerous place, this."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, _really_ dangerous. Nothing's happened here in two days! That's Sunnydale's longest no-threat-of-an-apocalypse running streak."

"Not about what you're seeing," the Ninth Doctor informed her. "It's about what you aren't."

Buffy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Anyone missing, lately?" the Ninth Doctor asked. "Anything odd? Not ringing true from your experiences in your reality?"

Buffy's frown deepened. Because… there was something… something that felt a little off… something she thought she should be seeing…

Then it hit her.

"The Bringers," she breathed.

Since she'd arrived back here, in this reality — no Bringers! Not a single one! Not in Sunnydale, not chasing down the Potential Slayers, not… anywhere. Why not? Why weren't they here?

And where were they?

"The Bringers are chasing the biggest threat," said Buffy. "The most deadly weapon. They always are."

"Yep."

"Which means… the biggest threat isn't in Sunnydale," said Buffy. "Or with the Potentials. It's somewhere else." She shook her head. "But where? What could be a bigger threat to the First's plans than the Slayer?"

The Ninth Doctor, as if ignoring her, pointed at the sky. "Lovely sunrise, round about this area."

"Huh?"

"Nothin'," said the Ninth Doctor. "Just wanted to let you know. Case she shows up."

* * *

Giles felt his head throb, as he was taken out of the metal cage.

He could hear officials nearby, asking him if he was all right, giving him a medical inspection, trying to help him out. He heard someone remark that this was precisely the same as all the others. One person found alive, everyone else dead.

The Watchers Council was gone.

But Giles was alive.

It made no sense to him. He didn't understand it — particularly not with this sort of concussion. He needed… certainly needed… to call Buffy. Let her know…

_(You'll not be you for very much longer.)_

But he didn't have enough time to tell Buffy much of anything. Because it was only a short while later that Giles realized what the Doctor meant.

And then knew nothing else.


	19. Chapter 19

"It's gone," Giles told Buffy, over the phone. "The Watchers Council. He destroyed it. Killed them all. Everyone… except me."

Buffy chewed her lip. She knew why the Doctor had spared Giles. He thought she'd come with him.

(And she was terrified that he was right.)

"But that's not the important part," Giles said. "Buffy, he spoke with me. Rather a long talk. About saving your life. There was something — about what he said. Almost as if... he didn't understand..."

The voice cut off.

And then there was a rush, a feeling like the entire world was erupting around her, a swirl of colors and lights and noise — so much noise — coursing through her body that she couldn't process any of it. She tried to scream but had no voice. Tried to push out but had no hands or legs. Tried to…

Buffy blinked.

She wasn't in her house, anymore. No phone in her hand. No mom wandering around the kitchen getting dinner together. Just a dense forest, with tangled undergrowth, and…

"Buffy!"

Buffy swung around, to find — was that her mom?

It had to be. But her hair was a mess, her clothes were mere tattered animal pelts, and she was walking with a bad limp, as if she could barely stand.

"What are you doing out here?" her mom asked. She grabbed Buffy by the arm, and began dragging her away. "It's nearly nightfall!"

"I don't… what?" Buffy asked, stumbling after her mother.

They approached a large cave that Buffy had never seen, before, overgrown with moss and lichen. A messy-haired, animal-pelt-clothed Willow stood outside, looking nervous and jumpy. The moment she saw Buffy, she relaxed.

"Where've you been?" Willow demanded. "We thought you'd never make it back in time."

Buffy glanced around herself. "Doctor!" she shouted, at the top of her lungs, hoping the man in the leather jacket could hear her. "If this is you, again…!"

Her mother clapped a hand over Buffy's mouth. "They'll hear you!" she whispered.

Willow and her mom dragged her into the cave, and her mom began pushing at a boulder nearby, trying to seal them in. A number of other raggedy, dirty-looking people came over to help.

"Lisa!" Willow protested.

"It's too late for her," someone else said. "We have to save ourselves."

Buffy just stared at everyone nearby. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Why are you all… cave-dwelling and stuff?"

Willow opened her mouth to answer, but a rush of footsteps and a familiar voice saying, "Oh, thank God!" cut her off.

Buffy turned, to find Xander rushing towards them.

He was missing an eye.

"But you… I mean, you're already…" Buffy shook her head. "Did I just get transported back to some alternate 2003 or something?"

Xander and Willow looked at one another. Then back at Buffy. "Huh?"

"I mean, this is what would have happened, right?" said Buffy. "If history had changed and the Doctor had been evil back in 1998, and then I went forwards to 2003."

"It's 1998," said Xander.

"Yeah," said Willow. "Sunnydale. 1998. December 17th."

"But… but… you're missing an eye!" Buffy cried, pointing to Xander. "Just like you are in 2003!"

Xander touched the spot where his eye had been. "Pirate jokes are a lot less funny than they used to be."

"Buffy, he lost that back when we were trying to save Cordelia," Willow whispered. "Remember?"

"Weird thing is, I miss her more than I miss the eye," said Xander. "And that's something I never thought I'd hear myself saying."

Buffy gaped at them. What the hell was going on? "And Oz?"

"Who?" asked Xander.

Willow leaned into him. "She means the… you know…" She pantomimed a growling dog, then a bunch of scared people screaming, then someone stabbing repeatedly.

"You killed Oz," Buffy said, her voice a monotone. "You. Willow Rosenberg."

"Well, she had to," Xander retorted. "You know what happened with the werewolf in the San Francisco Cave-Community."

"The Late San Francisco Cave-Community," Willow muttered, staring at the ground.

Buffy remembered the dense foliage outside. The way the air had felt so still and quiet, as if there were no noises, no sounds of bustling people or cars or anything. Almost as if… there were no cities at all, anymore.

Just cave communities.

"Besides, that's what we do," said Xander. "Fight monsters."

"Battle evil!" Willow added.

"If it wasn't for the three of us defending the Hellmouth, here, the world would have ended six times by now," Xander said. "We three are the only thing standing between humanity and the apocalypse."

Outside, Buffy could hear movement. Growling and hissing and biting, followed by a sudden rush of terrified screams. The others in the cave all shuffled away from the boulder in front of the door, looking down at the ground, sadly. As if there were nothing they could do.

"Apocalypse," Buffy repeated. She turned back to Willow and Xander. "Apocalypse?" she shouted. She gestured around them. "This _is_ the apocalypse! Don't you get that? We can't stop the end of the world! Because it's already ended!"

The screams grew even louder, and there was a frantic pounding at the boulder-door, a muffled voice shouting to let her in, that she was being followed, that she needed help.

No one moved.

"And isn't anyone going to let her in?" Buffy cried, pointing at the boulder.

"We can't do anything for her," Xander said. "It's too late. The monsters are already out."

"Yeah," Willow said. "I mean, I know we all talk big about destroying the monsters and claiming the world for good and humanity and everything, but… it's night, outside, Buffy. And that means…" she glanced around, then mouthed the word, "vampires."

Maniacal laughter burbled up from outside. The girl's shouts grew more and more desperate.

"Yeah? Well, I'm a Slayer," said Buffy, turning back to the boulder-door. "Vampires are what I do best."

A swarm of people ran up to stop her, but Buffy pushed through them easily. Her mind made up. She grabbed the boulder and shoved it aside as if it were nothing.

The girl flew into the cave, panting, a wooden stick in her hand.

Trailing behind her were a group of vampires, their faces all snarled, their fangs bared, looking as if they couldn't believe their luck.

"It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet," said one.

The people all started screaming, grabbing up their children and loved ones and running farther into the cave.

"Aw, I love it when they're scared," crowed another.

Buffy stood between the vampires and the rest of the people, her arms crossed. "Want them? Got to get through me, first."

"Oh, I've heard about this one!" said a vampire. "She's Buffy! The 'I'm Going To Get Rid of All the Monsters' Buffy. Leader of the 'We're Going to Claim Earth for the Forces of Good' gang." It stalked towards her. "I'm going to have so much fun killing you." And reached out to grab her.

Buffy snatched the vampire's arm, and flipped it through the air, smashing it against the cave wall. She kicked out at another, as she grabbed the stick from the girl she'd just rescued, and dusted the third.

The first vampire got up, a little dazed. Staring at Buffy. "What the hell?"

Buffy somersaulted through the air, as the second punched at her, then dodged another punch to her right, instead kicking out and sending the vampire stumbling to the ground, before dusting him.

She turned to the first vampire. "Having fun, yet?"

The vampire's eyes widened, and he fled for his life.

"Freaky moves," came the voice of the girl Buffy had rescued. The girl stumbled to her feet. "Is anyone allowed to do stuff like that, or just you and your little club?"

Buffy stared at the girl. Really stared. Because… she hadn't even recognized her, without the makeup and the clothes and the fighting, but… this defenseless girl, who'd been unable to fight back against the vampires… this damsel-in-distress… was…

"Faith?" Buffy said.

"Okay, fine, whatever," said Faith, with her uncomfortable-in-her-own-skin shrug. "I didn't want to be part of your group anyways." She turned to go.

"No, wait! Faith!" Buffy called, racing after her. She caught Faith by the shoulders and swung her around. "You're… you're not…" She stopped, trying to collect her thoughts. "Why aren't you fighting?"

"Fighting what?" asked Faith. "The vampires?" She looked at Buffy like she was crazy. "What do you think I was doing with a pointy stick, B? Doodling in the sand?"

"But I've seen you take down way more vamps than that!" Buffy insisted. "You're the Slayer, like me!"

"I'm the what?"

"You're the…" Buffy stopped. Then let Faith go, and stepped back. "That's it."

Faith looked at Buffy like she was crazy. "What's it?"

"The Slayer," said Buffy. "You've never heard of it. Willow and Xander have never heard of it. Everyone's surprised I can be all mega-vampire-fighter and stuff. And that means…" She felt the words catch in her throat, and when she spoke again, it was little more than a whisper. "It did it. The First actually did it."

"Want to let anyone else in on your little psychosis, here, B?" Faith asked.

"The First," said Buffy, "just eliminated the Slayer Line."


	20. Chapter 20

Angel stood outside, in the night air, waiting.

"Can't give you a miracle, this time," said the Ninth Doctor, a little ways away. "Having a hard enough time keeping time and space from collapsing as is."

"I know."

"Can't just flip a switch and change the weather every time you feel insurmountably guilty," the Ninth Doctor said.

"I don't want you to."

The Ninth Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets, and strode over to Angel. "So this is it, for you."

"Yes."

"End of the line," the Ninth Doctor clarified. "No more hope. No more struggle." He raised his eyebrows. "No more Buffy Summers."

Angel turned to face the Ninth Doctor. "You know what the First wants me to do."

"Doesn't mean you actually have to do it," the Ninth Doctor argued. "Could fight back. Help Buffy out."

Angel turned back towards the sky. "I can't fight any longer. The First is right. Inside, I'm a coward. A monster who can't repent for my mistakes."

"Know the feeling," the Ninth Doctor muttered.

"I've killed too many children, already," said Angel. "I can't kill another one. An innocent. Twelve years old."

"Powerful," the Ninth Doctor pointed out. "Could be dangerous, if the First got its hands on her. Might be better for everyone if you just did the deed, now."

"Then you do it."

The Ninth Doctor dropped his head, staring at his shoes. "Bit of a coward myself."

Angel nodded, slowly. "She doesn't even know what she is," he whispered. "An innocent. All that… and she has no idea."

"And you do?"

Angel gave a mirthless laugh. "Not at all. But I know the First's worried about her. And anything that can make the First worried like that is… beyond me." He glanced back at the leather-jacketed man. "You know, though."

The Ninth Doctor said nothing.

"I don't understand how," said Angel, "but you know. What she is. What she can do. All of it."

The Ninth Doctor didn't look at Angel, just fixed his eyes on the horizon. On the night sky, as the first hint of dawn emerged. "Want to know why you're here, Angel? Why you were taken out of Hell?"

Angel didn't answer. His hands were trembling.

"There are a lot of things I can't change," the Ninth Doctor continued. "Things that have to be, have to happen, or else everything falls apart." He nodded at the forest below — the one that used to be the town of Sunnydale. "She has to lose everyone she ever knew and loved. Has to lose all hope. Has to lose her mother. Her sister. Her father. She has to jump. She has to die. She has to be reborn — different, but the same. She has to be desperate enough to make a wish that could destroy everything. And she has to live on. Alone. Never finding love and stability. Knowing there's no one but herself." His eyes grew stormy. "A life filled with misery. Suffering. Sorrow. My fault. Nothing I can do about that." He glanced back at Angel. "But I could do one thing for her. And you didn't deserve to be stuck in Hell forever."

"_You_ brought me back?" Angel asked.

"Yep."

"For Buffy?"

"Yep."

Angel stared at him, a confused expression on his face. "Who _are_ you?"

The Ninth Doctor said nothing for a long moment, just stared out at the horizon. "Nice way to die," he said. "All things considered. Watching the sunrise. Looking out for dawn."

"Only way I'll ever get to see it," Angel agreed.

The Ninth Doctor nodded, as the colors began to swirl across the sky, and the first ray of sunlight appeared, bursting across the surface of the world.

"Dying to save a stranger," the Ninth Doctor muttered. He shook his head. "You always manage to impress me, Angel. Every single version of you." He grinned. "Fantastic."

Angel tried to ask what this meant, but a scream emerged from his mouth instead, as his skin burst into flames.

The Ninth Doctor turned to face him, his eyes blue as the illuminating sky, his face elongated by shadow.

"See you next time around," he said.


	21. Chapter 21

"Angel!" Buffy shouted, as she ran into the run-down ruins of the mansion. "Angel! Please tell me you remember…"

She stopped, as she found the note.

_Buffy—_

_I'm not strong, like you said. Inside, I'm weak. Too weak to fight back. I tried to argue, I tried to fight, like you told me to. But the First didn't show me malice. It showed me myself._

_I can't kill another child. I can't do it again._

_You said you knew, already. What the First wanted me to do. That means you'll understand why I had to take such drastic measures to stop it. Why I needed to die._

_She's out there, somewhere, Buffy. I don't understand what she is, or who she is, but she's more powerful than anyone knows. Someone is hiding her, someone is helping her to run, but she's only twelve years old, and she needs someone to protect her._

_Please. Protect her._

_She's your key._

_— Angel._

Buffy stepped back, feeling her entire body go numb as she read it. Her hands shaking, her skin growing cold, her brain refusing to think as the world around her seemed to fade into black.

Beside the note, on the ground, lay the Scythe.

"He didn't use it."

Buffy spun around, to find the person she least wanted to see, right now. She scrunched up the paper in her fist, her eyes narrowing on the man in the leather jacket.

"The Scythe, I mean," said the Ninth Doctor. "He just… waited for the sun to rise. Waited for dawn. Good death, all-in-all. Good reason."

"You didn't stop him," Buffy growled.

The Ninth Doctor didn't answer, just gave her a sympathetic look.

But Buffy didn't want sympathy. She didn't want any of that. She crumpled up the note into a ball and threw it at the Ninth Doctor, then rushed at him, her eyes blazing. "You should have stopped him! You should… have…"

She froze, in mid-step. As the crumpled note tumbled through the air. And passed right through the leather-jacketed man in front of her.

"Always has a good death, he does," the Ninth Doctor mused. "Brave and noble. Right to the end."

Buffy backed away, and grabbed the Scythe up off the ground. She brandished it in front of her, at the man in the leather jacket. "You're non-corporeal."

"At the moment," said the man. "Bit hard, being corporeal. Only able to be in one place at one time. Very annoying, that."

Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, her hands gripping the Scythe a little tighter. "You're not the Doctor."

"Nope," said the man who wasn't the Ninth Doctor. He thrust his hands into his pockets. "Never was." He glanced down at himself. "Just a form, this. Desktop theme." He tilted his head to the side, considering. "Good desktop theme, though. Thought it was fitting."

"How'd you do it?" Buffy demanded. She glanced at the world around her. "How'd you wipe out the Slayer line? How'd you manage to finally get it right?"

The man who wasn't the Ninth Doctor sighed. "Humans," he complained. "Always jumping to conclusions. If I'm not the Doctor, must be the First. If I let something unpleasant happen, I must be entirely evil." He waved a hand at her and the Scythe. "You can keep the pencil sharpener. Wanted you to have it. If I didn't, wouldn't have created it in the first place."

Buffy dropped the Scythe. "You…" She blinked, then shook her head. "Those guardian ladies created it."

"They _built_ it," said the Ninth Doctor. "I _designed _it."

Buffy frowned.

The Ninth Doctor pointed at her. "Said it yourself. Great big mystical weapon, hiding out in Sunnydale. Funny no one ever noticed, isn't it?"

"That mega-old guardian-lady said they hid."

"Same way the Doctor hid," the Ninth Doctor said, "when he went into your past, and let Martha Jones teach the city of Sunnydale CPR. Same way any time traveler hides their tracks, when mucking about with history."

Buffy stared at the Ninth Doctor. "Who _are_ you?"

The Ninth Doctor folded his arms. "Really?" he asked. "I tell you I went back in time, changed around history, and designed a super-weapon whose purpose you don't know — and you're asking personal questions?"

"Okay, okay!" said Buffy. "You don't want to tell me. Fine! Be all super-mystery-guy. What's the Scythe do, besides slice Caleb in half?"

The Ninth Doctor grinned. "Gives you a power the First doesn't want you to have." His grin widened. "Doesn't even want you to know about."

"What's that?"

"Power to change the future."

Buffy glanced down at the Scythe. Then back at the Ninth Doctor. "That's _it?!_"

The Ninth Doctor looked offended. "What do you mean, 'that's it?' You call me up, out of the blue, tell me to do five impossible things all at once, and — by the way, you say, try not to destroy the universe doing 'em all. Even though that's impossible. Luckily, I'm enough of a genius to do everything you wanted — _and_ save an entire galaxy from the Daleks, along with averting one of the most horrific intergalactic wars in history. And all you can say is, 'that's it?'"

"Huh?" asked Buffy.

"Think it's easy to go in at the last minute, tweak the past, and make everything all work out for the best in the end?" the Ninth Doctor demanded. "Think you can just make a wish like that and expect it not to have consequences?"

"I didn't make any wishes!" Buffy insisted. "I don't know who you are, but I never called you, I never asked you for anything, and I never wanted any of this stuff to happen!"

"You always call me," the Ninth Doctor corrected. "Every single time! Any little thing goes wrong, and there I am again! Mucking about in your personal history."

"When?" Buffy snapped. "Name one moment I asked you to do something!"

"April, 2000," said the Ninth Doctor, his blue eyes challenging.

"Huh?"

"Doctor's brain-dead, your bio-mechanoid Adam's just vanished, you've just discovered your dark side, and, turns out, your boyfriend isn't quite the dashing hero you thought he was," the Ninth Doctor elaborated. "Called me, then."

"I didn't…. When _exactly_?" Buffy asked.

"Not sure. Some point in the causal nexus," the Ninth Doctor replied. "What? You didn't think it was a _coincidence_ that you happened to have a full copy of the Doctor's memories on hand, did you?"

Buffy said nothing.

"And then there was that entire business with Glory," the Ninth Doctor continued. "You and the Doctor continually tryin' to make the universe fall apart. 'Universal Temporal Readjustment' — he said. 'Universe preventing its own death' — he said." The Ninth Doctor sighed. "He really does just make stuff up, sometimes. The universe never 'saved itself'. _I_ saved it."

"Okay, seriously," said Buffy. "Who are you?"

The Ninth Doctor gave a shrug. "Bit obvious, that." He spread his arms. "I'm me."

"No, you're not," said Buffy. "You're not the Doctor. You're some… super-universe-altering… whatever who grants everyone's wishes and screws around with innocent lives."

"Not _everyone's_ wishes," the Ninth Doctor protested. "Just… _one person's_ wishes." He caught her angry expression, and threw his hands up into the air. "Fine! Don't like the desktop theme, then?" He morphed into a lankier man, with floppy brown hair, a tweed jacket, and a bow tie. "This better?"

Buffy's anger fell away, for a moment. "Wait, but he… I mean, he isn't…"

"Dead?" asked the being who definitely _wasn't_ the Eleventh Doctor. "Not dead. Well, not yet. Well, not ever. I say not ever. What I actually mean is, not for a very long while. Which is actually a very short while, depending on how you think of it. And who you ask. And whether or not those headless monks are able to figure out what a Tesselector looks like."

"Oh, God," Buffy breathed. "You even sound like him."

"Or what about this?" asked the being, as it morphed into a 17-year-old Dawn Summers. She put her hands on her hips, as she noticed Buffy's expression growing even more bewildered. "What? You've met me when I was looking all Dawn-ish, before. Remember when Omega was some shadow creature chasing you through a time-crazy Sunnydale, that time you first met the Doctor? I helped you get into the TARDIS."

"But she's… I mean, both her and… the next Doctor…" Buffy tried.

"Never actually existed?" asked the being, still looking like Dawn. "But they exist to me. I mean, for me, no one ever really dies. And everyone always exists." It twisted into an exact imitation of Buffy. "So — a limitation of transforming only into dead people? Or existy people? Kind of pointless." It looked down at itself, and frowned. "Okay, seriously. The First actually does this Buffy-duplicate thingy? Because… this," gesturing between itself and Buffy's identical body, "is super creepy."

"Who the hell are you?" Buffy shouted.

The being morphed back into the Ninth Doctor. "Don't have a name," it confessed. "Never got one. Never thought one up. Get called lots of things — but never consistently."

"You don't have a name," Buffy said, in a flat tone of voice. "Even though I 'called you'."

"Yep."

"And you're not one of the Powers that Be?" Buffy continued.

The Ninth Doctor blew a raspberry. "Me? One of those bureaucratic do-nothings? If I were one of them, the miraculous Angel-saving snow-storm from your reality would have been in April. In the year 3975."

"And in this reality, not at all," Buffy said.

"I was busy!"

"And you claim you created the Scythe," Buffy continued. "But you're _not_ a guardian."

The Ninth Doctor reflected. "Guardian," he mused. "On second thought. Like that. Good job description." He grinned at her. "A guardian! That's me." He paused, his grin faltering. "Although… not the Universal Guardian sort of guardian."

"And you either have some weird… obsession with the Slayer," Buffy continued. "Or some weird obsession with me. No — definitely some weird obsession with me. You said that you only granted _my_ wishes, and that you made the Scythe for _me_, so — it's me you're after." She narrowed her eyes. "But you know what? The Daleks didn't get me, and neither will you."

"You really think I'm evil, don't you?" sighed the Ninth Doctor. "Even after I showed you how hard it is to sound good when you have full knowledge of time and space?"

Buffy didn't know how to answer this.

"Had to show you some things," the Ninth Doctor continued. "Give you information. Knowledge. Like you asked for. Could have brought you to any point in time, me. Shown you what you needed to know in a hundred different ways. But I brought you here. To this time. This place." He met her eyes with his own cool blue ones. "Because you never got the chance to tell your mum you loved her."

Buffy said nothing.

"Saw your whole life," the Ninth Doctor continued. "Every potential for your future. Even before you asked me to." He gave a little grin. "Asked me. Heh. Always did have trouble saying no to you. Perhaps that's why I brought Angel back for you. Bit of hope, in the darkness."

"Huh?"

"Course, took a while, that one did," said the Ninth Doctor. "But did it, in the end. Your ring sparked the psychic connection. Stabilized the receptor energy from that Hell-like Acathla universe. Established enough of a pathway to pull 'im through. Bring him back."

"Bring _him_ back?" Buffy crossed her arms. "So, what about me?"

The Ninth Doctor said nothing, his mirth dying away.

"Did you bring me back from heaven, after I died?" Buffy demanded. "Are you the reason that I'm alive, again?"

The Ninth Doctor looked away.

"You did, didn't you?" Buffy said.

"I didn't… _not_… bring you back," the Ninth Doctor admitted. He gave a small sigh. "You had to. Be alive, I mean. In 2005. Couldn't change that." He hesitated. "And… I thought I needed you. For something else."

"You're the reason the balance shifted!" Buffy accused. "That whole Elizabeth-convincing-Willow-I-was-in-Hell thing, that was your fault!"

The Ninth Doctor turned on her. "Do you have the first idea how time works?" he demanded. "The first idea what could happen if I tried to do everything the way _you_ wanted me to?" He threw his hands up. "You can't save everyone, Buffy! Every single choice, every decision, every event of your life — they're all wrapped up, one inside another. Pull one string, and it all falls apart!" He gestured at her. "You. You're alive, now. Have to be alive. Or the world dies." He gestured over to his right, at an imaginary person. "You're alive because Willow brought you back. Thought you were in Hell. Wanted to save you." He gestured to his left, at another imaginary person. "Willow knew she _could_ bring you back, and was sure you were in Hell, because Elizabeth told her so." He gestured at a third imaginary person, up-left from him. "Elizabeth only wound up in your timeline because Dawn traveled through the void, opening up a one-person hole for Elizabeth to travel through." He gestured to a fourth imaginary person, up-right from him. "Dawn traveled through the void, because Rose Tyler saved her life." He dropped his arms. "See what I mean?"

Buffy wasn't sure what to say.

"Could go on," said the Ninth Doctor. "'Bout Rose Tyler only travelling because of the events of 2009, 'n her having to be there to rescue Donna, and thus the multiverse. But don't need to. You get the point. Everything's all tied up together. Your life is twisted into so many temporal knots and causal loops and everything in between, that any vengeance demon so much as touches your personal timeline, and zap! End of existence as we know it!"

"But you still think _you're_ allowed to screw around with my life," Buffy pointed out.

The Ninth Doctor grinned. "Because I'm just that good."

Buffy crossed her arms, and gave him a defiant glare.

The Ninth Doctor gave a little sigh. "Did do one thing," he admitted. "When they brought you back. Tiny little thing. Best I could do." He nodded at her. "You're not _wrong._"

Buffy blinked. "I'm not?"

"Tara told you," the Ninth Doctor confirmed. "They brought you back. Correctly. Molecules are all a bit shaken up, and any technology — no matter how sophisticated — will no longer recognize your bio-signature. But you're not _wrong_. Not like Jack."

"No, no, wait! Hang on!" said Buffy, shaking her head. "If you're really not the Doctor, at all, then how did I manage to screw up time this badly? Why's the First able to do so much destruction at this point in history, when I didn't be all coming-back-to-life and the Doctor isn't all meeting-me-before-he's-supposed-to?"

The Ninth Doctor raised his eyebrows at her. "You mean you don't know?"

"About what?"

"The balance," said the Ninth Doctor. "Between good and evil."

"Of course I know about the balance!" Buffy retorted. "I'm what screwed it up! Me dying and coming back to life! In, you know, my reality. What I want to know is what screwed it up in _this_ reality?"

The Ninth Doctor shrugged. "Nothing."

Buffy paused. "Huh?"

"The First wants the Doctor," said the Ninth Doctor, "because the Doctor is the only one — in the entire universe — who can operate outside the balance." He leveled his eyes at Buffy. "Usually, the First has to wait. Take advantage of an odd situation that disrupts the balance. Like your coming back to life. Or Angel's coming back from Hell. But with the Doctor…" The Ninth Doctor snapped his fingers. "First can do anything it wants. Just like that."

Buffy's eyes grew wide. "Oh."

"Course, the exception only applies to _the Doctor_, himself," said the Ninth Doctor. "Not just his body. Him. But, considering the circumstances — at the moment, First's basically got the freedom to do almost anything it wants."

Buffy's brow creased. "The Doctor doesn't affect the balance _at all_? How'd that happen?"

The Ninth Doctor gave a knowing grin, and a wink.

Buffy held her head in her hands. "I don't… why…" She shook her head. "Why are you doing this? Why are you screwing around with time? And… why are you obsessed with _me_, in particular?"

"Let's just say," said the Ninth Doctor, "you're a bit of a hobby of mine." He took a step backwards. "Oh, and I'd reread that note, by the way. Pretty sure you overlooked something a bit important."

Then he turned, and vanished into the air.

Buffy ventured forwards, and picked the paper up off the ground. Smoothing it against a wall. Reading it in great detail. And…

Oh.

_Oh._

Buffy hugged the paper to her chest. A twelve-year-old girl. The Key. Hiding. Running. Seeking protection. The monks of the Order of Dagon must have been interrupted earlier than in her own reality. They must not have even sent the Key to the right place. But she existed. She was here.

Dawn was alive.

And Buffy had to find her.


	22. Chapter 22

"We've got serious trouble coming in from the demon world," Willow told Buffy. She gestured at all the magic items nearby her. "I was communing with the spirits and stuff, and... you know how you said the world's already ended?"

Buffy nodded.

"Well, it's about to end even more," Willow said. "Because this Big Bad is way bigger than any Big Bad we've come across before. And he's headed right for Sunnydale."

"He calls himself 'the Doctor'," Xander confirmed. "The Oncoming Storm. The Ka Faraq Gatri. The other demons call him — well, basically, they call him, 'better-get-the-hell-away-from-here.'"

"He's got a heart as black as coal," Willow added. "And a determination as unbreakable as steel. He's going after something in Sunnydale, and I'm guessing it's the Hellmouth. You know, being all with the opening and the thousands more monsters and the end of humanity." She hesitated. "But… there was this one spirit, in the ether, who gave me a kind of a tip."

"What tip?" Buffy asked.

"Well, the Doctor always travels with this blue box," said Willow. "Everywhere he goes, he's got that with him. And… there's a rumor going around that… there's something alive in there. Something he protects above all else."

Yeah. Because the TARDIS was alive. That made sense.

Looked like the Doctor still loved his TARDIS. Even when he didn't have a soul. Still loved his ship.

"This spirit whatever you communed with," Buffy said. "Did it mention anything about the Monks of the Order of Dagon? Anything about a Key? Or some twelve-year-old kid needing protection?"

"Not really," said Willow, cringing when she saw Buffy's disappointment. "Sorry."

Faith, sitting not far away, was twirling the Scythe in her hands, trying to feel something from it. Anything. But very obviously feeling nothing whatsoever. She tossed it aside.

"So who is this 'Doctor'?" Faith asked Buffy. "You recognized the name. I could tell."

Buffy gave a long sigh. "He's… the one responsible for all of this," she confessed. "He's the guy who ended the world."

Faith jumped to her feet. "Okay, so let's take him out, already."

Buffy didn't move.

"Buffy?" Willow asked.

Buffy shook her head. "I've… got to find Dawn!" she insisted. "That's way more important than killing the Doctor. I mean… Dawn's… you know… Dawn! And she's probably in mega-trouble!"

Everyone looked at everyone else.

"You're doing that stally thing you always do," Willow pointed out to Buffy.

Buffy didn't answer.

Faith crossed her arms. "That's just great!" she muttered. "You're the only one who stands a chance of defeating this guy, and you won't kill him!"

"Why not?" Xander asked Buffy. "The Doctor is pure evil! You just said he completely destroyed the world! The Buffy I know would be super-mega-pissed about that! And you're going to let him off the hook?"

"I'm not letting him off the hook!" Buffy insisted. "I just—"

"Oh, it's _way_ worse than that," a familiar-sounding voice cut in. A short-haired girl stepped up to their circle, her eyes fixed on the rest of them. A girl that Buffy recognized as Anya. "She doesn't just know _about_ the Doctor. She _really _knows the Doctor. He used her, slept with her, then ditched her. Ran off and became evil. Destroyed her world and everything she stood for. And she _still_ doesn't want anything bad to happen to him!"

Everyone turned and gaped at Buffy.

"You slept with Mr. Evil-Incarnate?" Xander said. He threw up his hands. "And I thought the whole Angel thing was bad!"

"Seriously, B," said Faith. "I get that you're hot for monsters, but you've got to draw the line somewhere."

"He wasn't evil when I slept with him!" Buffy shouted back at them.

"He's a guy," Anya pointed out. "Enough said."

Buffy shook her head. "Look, I know this is weird, I know you guys don't understand it, but… I _can't_ kill the Doctor. I just… can't."

"Why not?" Willow demanded.

"Because I don't want him dead!" Buffy shouted.

Anya laughed.

Buffy turned on her. "What?"

"That's the worst excuse you've used so far!" Anya said. "I used to be a vengeance demon. I can remember stuff from the pre-altered timeline." She paused, a hint of melancholy dripping into her face. "Not… as much as I should… but some things." She blinked, and the melancholy was gone. "Every single time you say you won't kill the Doctor, someone asks you why. And you always give a different answer." She crossed her arms. "So what's the real reason? Why won't you kill him?"

Buffy hesitated. She took a step backwards. "It's… not…" She shook her head. "He can help us find Dawn! We can use him to our advantage!"

Everyone just leveled the same angry glare at her.

"Look, I just… it's weird," Buffy said. "And confusing. And… yeah, I did love him before he was evil, and I don't want him dead, because… I mean, I know he's not… never going to be…"

"She doesn't even know!" insisted Anya. "She won't kill him, and she doesn't know why!" She pointed at Buffy. "Is this what you do when all your boyfriends turn evil? You just... let them go? Pretend that they did nothing wrong at all, because you can't ever, ever harm them?"

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut. "That's not… it's complicated!"

"Buffy," said Willow, in a low voice, coming up beside her. "I don't get what's going on. I don't get why you suddenly have super-powers, or why you can't kill the Doctor, or who Dawn is and why you want to find her so much. And I know if I ask you to clarify, you'll just start stalling again. So tell me one thing." She gave a sad sigh, glancing around herself. "Before the Doctor came. The world. Was it better than this?"

Buffy said nothing for a long time. Then, with a heavy reluctance, she nodded.

"A lot better?"

She nodded again.

Willow turned to all the others. "Then we know what we have to do."

"Don't!" Buffy cut in. She stepped in between Willow and the others. "Look, I'm going to stop him. I'm going to fix all of this, and make sure he never hurts anyone ever again. I just… can't… you know."

"Kill him," Anya provided. "Harm him. Let him die. Wish him ill. Want him strung up by his toenails and flayed alive for sleeping with you and then ditching you." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously. What kind of a woman are you?"

* * *

It was almost a week before Buffy had managed to traverse the forest and arrive at the next cave community over.

The moment she arrived there, she was leapt on by four black-robed monks, who attacked her with pointed sticks and crudely crafted knives. She rolled out of the way, and managed to disarm the first three in a matter of seconds, without greatly hurting any of them.

The last one shuddered back, holding up his hands. "Stop! We surrender!"

"I'm not your enemy!" Buffy insisted, still wary of the others. "I just came here to talk!"

"Do not trust her, Brother Derryl!" one of the three defeated monks warned. "She fights like a vampire!"

"If I was a vampire, you'd be dead by now," said Buffy, standing up straight, and dropping her fists. "I'm Buffy. And I'm here for information."

"She is the one we were warned about!" shouted another monk. "An emissary of evil."

"Actually, I'm the one trying to fight the First Evil," she explained. "And I'm looking for someone. A little girl. Named Dawn. Did she come through here?"

The monks all shook their heads.

"How about any other monks?" Buffy asked. "Wandering around? Have you seen them? Particularly, some monk holding a Dagon-sphere, or something?"

The monks looked at her, confused.

"I guess that's a no," Buffy muttered.

One of the monks stepped forwards, hesitantly. "We did encounter... someone..." he said. "A man... of pure evil."

"He looked upon our holy order," offered another, "and the sight filled him with an anger almost un-measurable."

"He told us you would come," explained the fourth monk. "He wanted you to see something."

Buffy felt her nerves bubble up. "See what?"

The fourth monk turned and gestured for her to follow. "I will show you."

Buffy was led to a cavern, in a secret room, they showed her. A slab of stone, carved with words that seemed ancient, and yet — probably because the TARDIS was still around — were in English. One that said:

_It is not for thee._

_It is for her, alone, to wield._

Just like Spike and Andrew had found. The very same message that had infuriated Caleb, because it told him he'd never wield the Scythe. Except... in this reality, the Doctor had underlined the words "thee" and "her", and with an arrow pointing at the first line, had scrawled:

_Not even you, Buffy Anne Summers._

Buffy's breath caught in her throat, as she put all the pieces together. As she realized exactly how the First had managed to wipe out the Slayer line. Exactly how the world had been destroyed. Exactly who the Doctor was keeping locked up inside the TARDIS, guarding with his life.

"He stole the Slayer," Buffy whispered. She gave a small, sad shake of the head. "He travelled back in time. Saved her from the Shadow Men. And, in doing so, destroyed the world."

"It's... it's said... inside that blue box of his... there's a monster," said the monk. "More evil than anything else on this world. Insane, malicious, vengeful. Something he's nurturing as his own little warrior."

Hang on.

Buffy turned on the monk, as the flickering flame caught his face. As her mind finally recognized his accent. As she realized... that this monk... was someone she'd met before.

And the only one of the four that Buffy hadn't touched.

The candlelight flickered, again, and Buffy knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where she had last seen that face...

_A scared, but brave monk, tortured for hours by Glory, huddled on the ground and telling her, with his dying breath, "We hid the Key, made it human, and sent it to you."_

"That monk," Buffy breathed. "From the Order of Dagon. The one who hid the Key."

The monk-that-wasn't-a-monk gave her a malicious smile. "So the Doctor was right," it said. "You do recognize this face."

"The monk is dead," Buffy realized.

"All of them," the First confirmed. "The Doctor asked the Order of Dagon for the green mystical energy they were guarding. They refused to give it to him. So he destroyed them."

Buffy didn't say a word.

"Not himself, of course," the First continued. "At that point, he was busy going back in history, stealing the Slayer, and destroying humanity. No, he found someone else to kill those monks for him. Someone who hated them. Someone who'd been looking for them for ages."

The monk morphed, before Buffy's eyes, into the red-dress-wearing Glory.

"All the Doctor had to do was tell her where to find them," said the First, in Glory's form.

Buffy jumped at the new form, and the First beamed.

"Seen this face before, hun?" asked the form of Glory. She gave a laugh. "Point two to the Doctor."

"She's..."

"...dead?" Glory asked. "Oh, yeah. Took a while, but he got her in the end. He gets them all." She pouted. "Sad. I kind of liked her."

"You would," Buffy muttered.

The First crossed Glory's arms. "It's your fault they're all dead, you know," it said. "The monks, Glory, Ben. You're the reason the Doctor flipped his lid."

"You always say that," Buffy replied.

"The Doctor," explained the First, "found out that you were dead. Well, of course he did!" The First morphed into Buffy. "I can change into you, and I couldn't do that unless you'd died." It shifted back into Glory. "But you'd also been brought back to life. Since he already knew about the Key, the monks of the Order of Dagon, and their intention to create another segment, it wasn't hard to work out the rest." The First circled around Buffy, grinning Glory's deranged smile. "The monks transformed the energy, didn't they? In your reality. They knew the Doctor would destroy another segment the moment it was created, so they transformed it into something you couldn't live without. And gave it to you." The First rubbed its hands in glee. "You see? The Doctor worked it all out. He killed all those people to make sure that — in the future — you wouldn't die."

Buffy felt something heavy in the pit of her stomach. "He didn't… it was _you_..." she tried.

Glory rolled her eyes. "Like I had that much to do with it!" she said. "Face it, Slayer. This is your fault. The Doctor, for some reason, seems to place a high priority on keeping you alive. Conscience or no conscience, he'd have done the same thing." Glory paused. "Well, he probably wouldn't have killed the monks. Or at least, not as viciously."

"But Dawn!" Buffy protested. "He liked Dawn! He'd never have..." She trailed off as she realized. He hadn't met Dawn, yet. Didn't know about her. Had no idea who he was condemning to non-existence.

Glory crossed her arms. "Huh. Dawn. Now _there's_ a name that keeps coming up."

Buffy gave the First a dark glare. "You stay away from her."

The First laughed. "Oh, hun," she said. "You really don't get it, do you? You can't give me orders. I've got everything, now. The Oncoming Storm. The Slayer. Time travel. The Key to Time is practically in my clutches. The Scythe will soon be mine..."

"Fat chance," said Buffy. "The Scythe belongs to me."

"It belongs," the First pointed out, "to the Slayer. And I've got the Slayer, now. I plucked her out of history."

"I'm still not giving you the Scythe," said Buffy. "And I can use it to kill off anyone you send after me."

"Except the Doctor," Glory pointed out.

Buffy tried to keep her face carefully blank, but the First saw through it in an instant, and gave a laugh.

"The one question you won't answer!" the First cried. "The one fact you won't face! You keep saying it, keep insisting on it. You can't kill the Doctor. No matter what. You just can't kill him. But why, Buffy? Why?"

Buffy didn't answer.

"Wanna know what I think?" the First asked, stepping closer to her. It leaned in, and whispered, "You're just making excuses. The truth is... you physically can't do it. He's stronger than you. More clever than you. More able than you. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't kill the Doctor. Because you know that, in a fight, the Doctor would win. Every single time."

Buffy glanced over at the First, meeting the non-corporeal eyes with her own.

"No," Buffy said, and walked out of the cavern.

"Keep telling yourself that, hun!" the First shouted after her. "It won't save you, in the end!"


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: The scene that inspired the title.

* * *

Buffy sat on the side of a grassy hill, staring into the distance, her eyes drifting across the tree-filled horizon. Her hands dangling limply by her sides.

"They haven't guessed," came a Northern English accent behind her.

Buffy didn't look back, just sunk her head into her knees.

"I can't kill him," she muttered. "I just... can't."

"You can," the Ninth Doctor pointed out, sitting beside her. "You choose not to."

Buffy took a deep breath. "It's just... it's been two years since I saw him. Two years of waiting and wishing and..." she squeezed her eyes shut. "...coming to terms with the fact that I'll never see him again. That he's never coming back." She took a long, shaky breath. "And just seeing him here... after I've wanted to see him, so much, for two years..." She shook her head. "Part of me doesn't care. Doesn't care how he is. If he's good or evil. Just... he's here. With me."

"You love 'im," the Ninth Doctor summarized, "so you'll never kill 'im."

Buffy nodded.

The Ninth Doctor laughed. "Nah."

Buffy shot her head up, her eyes dark. "What?"

"You loved Angel," said the Ninth Doctor. "Still sent 'im to Hell so you could save the world. You had that telepathic instinct to keep Faith alive. Still shoved a knife in her gut when you thought it could save Angel." He met her eyes with his own. "You love the Doctor. You say you can't kill him. But when you learned about the possibility that he'd get his hands on time travel — you brought all your weapons on patrol with you. And you were prepared to use them, if you had to."

Buffy didn't answer.

"You don't like it," the Ninth Doctor continued. "Don't want to do it. But if his death would save the world — or the universe — you'd kill him. Just the way you'd kill any of the rest of 'em."

Buffy's hands bunched in the grass a little tighter. "I... should have," she said. "To stop this." She nodded at the unpopulated world around her. Her face crinkled with the echo of a pain that bit down into her soul. "And I would have hated myself forever."

The Ninth Doctor glanced over at her. "That's it, isn't it?" he asked. "The real reason why you can't kill the Doctor."

"Because I'd hate myself for letting him die?"

"Because you forgive him."

Buffy's breath caught in her throat, and she felt tension flood through her limbs.

"I'm right, aren't I?" the Ninth Doctor asked. "He destroyed your world, harmed your friends, went against everything you believe in. But you're sure he can get better. Same way Spike got better. So you forgive him."

"I didn't...!" Buffy looked around her, eyes peeled for other interlopers nearby. Then, in a low voice, she whispered, "I didn't mean to!"

"But you always do," said the Ninth Doctor. "With all of them. Angel, after he returned from Hell — you took 'im in. Helped him. Nursed him. Your friends called it stupidity. Young love. Romanticism. But the truth was... you forgave 'im, even when they didn't."

Buffy bit her lip, her cheeks burning.

"You forgave Riley," continued the Ninth Doctor. "Forgave Spike. Willow. Faith. Andrew."

"Okay, fine!" Buffy shouted, jumping to her feet. "So I've got a problem with forgiving mass murderers that have tried to destroy the world in the past! I get that!" She threw her hands up in the air. "But you know what? I've tried not to forgive them, I've tried to stay angry, I've tried to be all vengeancy! And it never works! So, apparently, I just can't help myself from forgiving people!"

"You think it's a bad thing?"

"Uh, yeah!" said Buffy. "I thought that was basically established."

"Doctor does it," said the Ninth Doctor. "When the world ends and time folds in on itself — the Doctor will forgive the culprit. And no one will understand why. Except you."

Buffy didn't know what to say to this.

"You, Buffy Anne Summers," said the Ninth Doctor. "You love. You give. You forgive. It is your nature." He climbed to his feet, and fixed his eyes on her. "You forgave the Doctor in the beginning, and you'll forgive him in the end."

"Even when he does bad things," Buffy confessed. "Even when I shouldn't forgive him. Even when it's completely irrational. I still..." She shook her head. "I can't help myself."

"Course not!" said the Ninth Doctor. "It's who you are. Who you'll always be. And it's what separates you from Elizabeth."

Buffy didn't answer.

"Elizabeth had her dark side," said the Ninth Doctor. "So do you. And you know, in your heart, that you might have made any of the same decisions that she made. Except for that one thing that separates you two, and ensures you'll never follow in her footsteps."

"The fact that I'm not a psychopath?"

The Ninth Doctor shook his head. "Your nature," he said. "Elizabeth always blamed. You always forgive. That's a strength. Not a weakness."

Buffy couldn't think of anything to say to this.

His smile faded, and he turned away from her, looking off into the distance.

"Suppose we've all done things that need forgiveness," the Ninth Doctor muttered.

For a long moment, he was silent, the sun glinting off his blue retinas, casting shadows upon his face.

"I let the First into this universe," he confessed, at long last.

Buffy turned on him, her whole body trembling with sudden fury. "You… what?!"

"You had to die," the leather-jacketed man explained. "Had to be alive again, afterwards. Couldn't change that. But the First... the Hellmouth…" He paused, his stature rigid, his jaw tense. "The Zen-12. Temporal explosive device. Creating the Hellmouth. I'm the reason it was there."

"_What_?!"

"And, of course, even after that — Omega's trick should have worked," the leather-jacketed man admitted. "Negative regenerational energy should have swept the First completely back into the anti-matter universe. But I stepped in. To make sure that when you were brought back... the First would strike."

Buffy advanced on him. "Everyone who's died," she growled, "everyone that's never been born, everything that's happened — you did it!"

He glanced back at her. "It was isomorphic."

Buffy paused. Then blinked. "Huh?"

"The Oblivion Scythe," said the Ninth Doctor. "The original one. From the war. The controls were isomorphically locked, so the Scythe could only be operated by one subset of the human population. A female subset. A Chosen One, who fought against the forces of darkness. When I brought the Scythe back through time, I might have changed its purpose. But I didn't change the isomorphic controls."

Buffy felt herself shiver, as she caught his meaning. "The Oblivion Scythe — it's the Slayer's weapon. All those planets, sentenced to Hell, in the distant future — the Slayer's going to be the one who does it."

"Yes."

"In the future... the Slayer's evil?"

"Who's to say which side was good or evil in a war like that?" the Ninth Doctor asked her. "War where both sides are right, and both are wrong. Mutual atrocities, both feeling they're justified. Kind of war historians the universe over will concur was inevitable, unpreventable — most terrible tragedy in human history. The Slayer will always do what she feels is right. Some galaxies support her. Others not." His eyes fixed off into the distance. "And the death count will be unimaginable."

Buffy said nothing.

"That's why I let the First in," said the Ninth Doctor. "I'd already destroyed your life. Made my mistake. Thought… I'd better make the best of it."

"By letting the First wipe out the Slayer line way in the past," said Buffy, her anger rushing through her veins. "By letting the First kill all those innocent Potential Slayers who did nothing wrong! By letting the First punish them for a crime that was committed way after they were destined to die!"

"By stopping a war."

She bunched her hands into fists. "You didn't stop a war," she growled. "You started one! You started the one I'm fighting now." She felt herself shaking with anger. "You know what? I don't care about the future. I don't care about your Oblivion Scythe, or this super-duper death count. I care about what I've seen, right here, right now. I've seen girls terrified, afraid, and alone. I've seen girls hang themselves, destroy themselves, lose everything they ever had! I've seen girls depend on me, have faith in me, and lose it all because of some stupid game the First was playing!" She lowered her voice, so that every single word was filled with venom and anger. "So don't you dare tell me you've stopped a war!"

The man in the leather jacket said nothing. Didn't meet Buffy's eyes. "I had no choice."

Buffy shook her head. "You're not the Doctor at all, are you?" said Buffy. "Because everyone always has a choice. And the Doctor I knew — the Doctor I loved — would have found a better way to change the future."

"I'm sorry," said the man who wasn't the Doctor.

He wanted her to forgive him. Wanted her to tell him it was okay, that she'd seen the world end, seen the Slayer line destroyed, seen all those girls frightened and scared and screaming, and that it was all fine. But it wasn't fine. Would never be fine.

Buffy spun around, and left. Never looking back.

She could forgive the Doctor.

She'd never forgive this other man.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: Sorry about the delays in posting. I was hoping to post this story quickly, because it feels quick when you read it. But then I got caught up in this huge family reunion, and I'm snatching as much time as I can to post this. Now we have two medical problems happening in two different places to two different family members, which is crazy, too, and means I'm going to be doing a lot of driving in the near future.

So updates are going to be a little sporadic.

I was hoping to post two chapters today, since this one is kind of short. I don't know if I'll be able to do that. Hopefully I can get up another chapter, today, before I'm swept away by the next thing that comes up. But I'm not putting any money on it.

Anyways, enjoy.

* * *

Buffy returned to Sunnydale a few weeks later. Having discovered nothing about Dawn, and no mention of any child on the run from the First. No mention of the Key.

No sign of her sister.

It was hard, trudging back and thinking that maybe... just maybe... the monks had been killed before they could hide the Key. That she was too late. That the Doctor could just take the energy with him to exactly the right point in space-time and create the trans-universal portal.

That her sister would never be born.

It was another few days before the Doctor arrived in Sunnydale — and Buffy knew, the moment he had, because all the lesser evil fled his approach.

"The First needs the Slayer," Buffy told Willow and the others. "And the Doctor's keeping her inside the TARDIS. Has to be."

"You'll never get her out," said Willow. "The blue box is impenetrable."

"Good thing I've got this," said Buffy, raising up the small Yale key on a string.

The key she'd been given, back when she'd been trying to save the Doctor's life. The key that, in her old reality, she'd given back to him. The key she'd kept, in this reality, as some reminder of who the Doctor had once been. Who — she was sure — he could be, again.

(Spike had changed. Why couldn't the Doctor?)

The Doctor settled down by the entrance to the Hellmouth. Started building something. Something, Buffy was guessing, she wouldn't like very much.

She tried to sabotage it. Tried to turn the Doctor back to normal, or make him see the error of his ways. Tried to stop him, or even just figure out what the heck he was up to.

He thwarted her, easily.

Could see her coming, a mile off. Could guess all her tricks. Knew exactly how to counter them.

He never hurt her. Never even tried to. But the coldness was still there, in his eyes, and Buffy could see that, beyond a few of his friends, he had no pity or respect for human life.

It killed her to see him like that.

The First taunted her about it. Often. Showed up as her dead friends, and reminded her of all the truths she didn't like remembering. The things that had happened that she couldn't take back.

The man with the large ears and leather jacket — who wasn't the Doctor — appeared, too. Tried to talk to her. Tell her things. Apologize.

She ignored him.

Buffy had watched the world get destroyed because of the First. She'd watched so many people die, so much misery take place — even watched the Doctor turn into an unfeeling monster. And all because of the First.

Anyone heartless enough to cause all of that... she couldn't forgive.

She approached the cave which contained the seal locking the Hellmouth. Her every step cautious. Her eyes peeled for danger. She had seen the TARDIS down here, had heard noises coming from inside. The Slayer baby was locked away in there, and if Buffy could get at her...

Well, it might be enough to give her the upper hand.

She held the TARDIS key in her hand, clutching it tightly. She'd tried this before, but had never gotten this close. Now, she could see the police box up ahead, could see the coast was clear and she could dart forwards and get to it.

One last look around, and Buffy dashed for the TARDIS door.

She stopped, as she arrived, key poised in her hand, and realized the problem.

"I removed the keyhole," came the Doctor's voice, behind her. "Some time ago. The logical solution to the problem."

"Of how to keep her prisoner, you mean?" asked Buffy, turning on the pinstripe-suited figure that had snuck up on her.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You didn't used to be like this," Buffy told him.

"I don't want to die," he explained to her. "There's no going back for me."

"But you still feel things!" Buffy insisted. "You won't hurt me. You almost never kill your enemies directly, just let them kill themselves. You still feel that urge to defend people. Save people. So why are you trying to destroy the world?"

The Doctor shoved his hands into his pockets. "Come with me."

Buffy stepped away.

"You can't stop me," he told her, in a casual tone of voice, as if stating a well-known fact. "Might as well join me. I'm not going to give up."

"Neither am I," said Buffy.

The Doctor sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "And you might as well stop looking for that green, glowing energy," the Doctor told her. "It's gone."

"You would say that."

"No, really," said the Doctor. "The monks are long since dead. The energy eliminated. Whatever or whoever you're looking for — they're not coming. Ever."

Buffy didn't answer.

"Your world no longer exists," the Doctor said. "Time has been rewritten. The moment you arrived, everything went wrong. You're not going to stop me. So you might as well come with me. Help me."

Buffy dodged to the right, faking him out, then burst towards his left, rushing towards the equipment the Doctor was building, ready to do whatever damage she could to it.

She felt a sharp sting, as she ran into an energy barrier surrounding the machinery, and tumbled to the ground.

"I'd rather die," Buffy snapped at the Doctor, jumping to her feet.

He gave her an enigmatic smile. "Course you wouldn't. If you were dead, there'd be no one left to stop me. And you'd never let that happen."

Damn. Because Buffy knew. He was right.


	25. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Go figure, I'm getting this up! Woo-hoo! Short, yes, but that's why I wanted to post it at the same time as the last chapter.

Thus ends part II.

Part III lies ahead.

* * *

Something was wrong.

No, wait, everything was wrong, one great big horribly-gone-wrong apocalypse timeline. But there was something that had caught Buffy's Slayer senses. Something big. Bad. And right on top of the burnt-down vineyard.

(A vineyard which, for some inexplicable reason, still existed in this Slayer-less world, even though Buffy knew it shouldn't.)

Buffy began heading towards it. When she heard the terrified scream, she began to run.

She scanned the area ahead, her eyes searching for danger, her legs in a sprint, her body already preparing for an attack. She burst through the trees, and discovered, along the burnt and ashy ruins of a vineyard that, logically, should never have been built...

Black robed figures. Sewn up patches of skin in the shapes of X's, where their eyes should have been. Long, crooked daggers in their hands.

Bringers.

"You never give up, do you?" said the man facing them down. "You've chased me across an island, a continent, and the Atlantic Ocean." He gave them a smile, and a wink. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were coming on to me."

The Bringer nearest him lunged forwards, as two from either side swooped in. He managed to barely evade them, stumbling on his toes, but trying, very pointedly, to lead them away from something.

"I'm flattered," the man continued. "Really. But... you know what? Truth is… you're not my type."

Another Bringer darted around the man's back, and he spun around and leapt on it, tackling it to the ground. They rolled along the ground, hands at each others' throats, until another Bringer stepped in with a knife, to strike the man through.

Buffy charged forwards, and kicked the knife out of the Bringer's hand. She ducked his next punch, blocked a strike from the left, then grabbed the Bringer and flipped him back so that he knocked into the one wrestling with the man on the ground.

Buffy grabbed up a knife, and charged at the two Bringers she'd just dislodged, while the man she'd rescued leapt up, and rushed at the other two. Buffy flipped, rolled, punched, and kicked, until she managed to corner her two, and get rid of them, as her mystery-man managed to finish off a third. Buffy pivoted on her heel and sprung at the last one, twisting it into the man, who caught its shoulders in his grip, so Buffy could kill it.

Then they froze. And stared at one another. Face-to-face.

"Jack?" Buffy asked.

* * *

The last time Buffy had seen Jack Harkness, he'd been well put-together, groomed, with a suave sophistication that screamed sex appeal. This Jack was different. Bedraggled, rugged, looking as if he'd been traveling a long ways. His hair matted with mud, his greatcoat torn, his clothing telling the story of a hundred deaths, none of them pleasant.

(At least he wasn't wearing animal skins.)

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer!" Jack cried. He clutched her by the shoulders, as if he were afraid she'd melt away. "You must be the reason we're here!"

"You know I'm a Slayer?" Buffy asked. "But... how?"

"That's not important, right now," said Jack. "Look, Buffy, I need your help. I've tried, I've done my best, but... it's not enough. They need protection. Help. And I just can't give it to them."

Buffy was starting to have a weird feeling of déjà vu.

"You said the Bringers have been chasing you," she said. "Is that why? Because of this… whoever it is you've brought?" She leaned in, and whispered, "It's not an army of Potential Slayers, is it? Because I could really use that, right now."

"Better," said Jack.

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him.

"If you can remember who you are and what's happened," said Jack, "then you know how desperate the situation's become. But I've got someone. Someone important. The one person the First's been sending wave after wave of Bringers to destroy."

A pile of rubble shifted, and a chunk of wood broke off, landing at Buffy's feet. The chunk of wood that still had the charred remains of the graffitied words, "Bad Wolf." Buffy glanced back up, as the child emerged from her hiding spot therein.

A very familiar 12-year-old child.

"She's the key to our victory," Jack explained.

The girl tucked her hair behind her ears, then smiled shyly at Buffy.

"Hi," said the twelve-year-old Rose Tyler.


	26. Part III

Part III

Buffy stared at Rose. At the 12-year-old girl who was, apparently, the key to everything. At the girl who wasn't her sister.

(With time travel and void travel and everything else, Buffy had never realized that Rose was, in fact, Dawn's age.)

Had the Doctor been right, after all? Had he actually gotten rid of the energy before the monks could use it? Had Buffy really just lost her sister forever?

"Rose!" came a shrill, English accented voice from their right.

Buffy turned, to discover an older, blond woman rushing over to Rose, carrying a bundle in her arms.

"You can't just run off like that, sweetie!" the woman said, dusting the ash off Rose's clothing. "No matter what Mr. Thinks-He-Knows-Everything says."

"Mum," said Rose, with a small laugh. "They were trying to kill us. I had to run."

"Well, that still doesn't mean you have to ruin your nice clothes, does it?" asked Rose's mom. "Those pelts cost three hens, you know. And hens don't grow on trees." She handed the bundle — a baby, it looked like — over to Rose. "Hold Lily a moment, will you? I want to have a word with Sir Big-And-Important over there."

Buffy turned to Jack. "Someone else who needs protecting?"

"Jackie and Lily Tyler," Jack said, with a sigh. "Rose's mom and sister, respectively." He leaned in a little closer and whispered, "Half sister, actually, but you won't catch me saying anything about that."

Buffy looked back at Rose and Lily, trying to hold back the loneliness in her heart. Sister. She was a sister, once. Should have been a sister. Dawn could be annoying as hell, but... Buffy missed her. Needed her.

Now, Dawn was gone forever.

Rose's mom stormed up to Jack, looking like she was about ready to slap him. "Look here, Mister!" she warned him. "I don't know what's going on, but we had a good, reasonable cave until you showed up. Whatever those eyeless freaks want, that doesn't change the fact that I'm sick and tired of running half-way across the world and putting my children in danger just because you say so!"

"Mum!" Rose protested.

"Half way across the world?" asked Buffy.

"Started in London, about a month and a half ago," said Jack.

Buffy stared at him. "London to California? In a month and a half? On foot?"

Jack winked at her. "Got some tricks up my sleeve." He turned to Jackie. "We're here, now. No need to worry."

"And where's here?" Jackie demanded. Then turned on Buffy. "Who's she?"

"I'm Buffy," said Buffy, extending her hand. "The Slayer. I'm here to protect you guys."

Jackie eyed Buffy suspiciously. "Slayer? Never heard of you."

Buffy gave a little sigh. "No," she agreed. "In this reality, I guess you really, really wouldn't have."

* * *

"We've been fighting off evil creatures for about three months, now," said Jack, once they'd gotten back to the cave, and had let everyone settle in as much as they could. "And on the run for about a month and a half." Jack scrunched up Rose's hair. "Rosie's been a champ."

Rose squirmed and scooted away. "Don't call me Rosie!" she said, with a giggle.

"Someone out there really wants Rose dead," said Jack. "Since Torchwood One went down, we've seen it all. Bringers, Turok-Han, Caleb..."

"Caleb?" Buffy cut in.

Rose huddled in on herself, giving a little shudder at the name. "He killed Mickey," she whispered.

Jack made a face. "There aren't a whole lot of guys I really hate in the world, but Caleb's up there in the top two."

"Top _two_? Who's your number one?" asked Buffy.

Something unfathomably dark and icy entered Jack's eyes. "Whoever's done this to the Doctor."

"The First Evil," Buffy said. "Non-corporeal. Really annoying. Likes to parade around as dead people. As far as I can tell, it's not big on creating situations, just taking advantage when the laws of nature get screwed up." She reflected. "Which is why the First had to wait until after Torchwood was destroyed to go after Rose. I mean, I didn't get major details about how Rose... left the TARDIS, in the end, but it wasn't by choice, and it involved Torchwood. When Torchwood got destroyed in the past, it made the universe all paradoxy, and the First took advantage."

"And Caleb?" asked Rose.

"Caleb's just... one of the First's servants. A pretty bad one." Buffy paused. "Where's Caleb now?"

"No idea," said Jack. "But, at a guess, somewhere very far away and very unpleasant. He ran into the Doctor, and we haven't seen him since."

"With the Doctor the way he is, that's not very reassuring," said Buffy. She glanced over at Rose. "Sorry, but… I've got experience with having ex-boyfriends turn evil. Trust me — it's not going to be very much fun to be you, while it happens."

"Boyfriend?" asked Rose, a little confused.

"But that's just it!" said Jack, his face lighting up. "He should be hurting Rose, but he's not. He should be killing me every time he sees me, but he's not. And when he went back in time and ended the world, the change only effected people who never had or would never get one of these." Jack reached into his pocket, and revealed a small Yale key on a string.

The TARDIS key.

Buffy felt for her own TARDIS key in her pocket. And realized why she, Jack, and Rose could all remember the world the way it had once been.

"You want to know why this First Evil wants Rose dead?" Jack asked. "Why it's been throwing everything it can at her?"

"She's a Potential Slayer?" Buffy guessed.

Jack shook his head. "Whatever the First's doing to control the Doctor," he corrected, "Rose can stop it."

Buffy's eyes went wide. "Wait, what?"

"The Doctor destroyed Torchwood One," said Jack. "Most people died then. Some agents fled, but were tracked down and killed soon after. No one should have survived. But… one person did."

"Who?"

"Ianto Jones," said Jack. "Cute guy. Great ass. He noticed I'd been spared, tracked me down, and found me on the Powell Estates. But the Doctor found us, too."

"And this Ianto guy survived… how, exactly?" Buffy asked.

"I saved him," Rose explained.

Buffy looked at Rose — small, young, not Slayer powered, not even Potential Slayer powered — then back at Jack.

"She did," Jack confirmed. "The Doctor was about to kill Ianto, and she asked him not to. And he just stopped. Just like that."

"Just like that?" Buffy asked. "She didn't have to reason with him, or threaten him, or anything?"

"Nope," said Jack. "One word. 'Don't.' And the Doctor stopped."

Buffy stared at them. She could remember how hard it had been to convince the Doctor not to kill Giles. Was that just because it had been _her_ trying to convince the Doctor — a friend that had never actually traveled with him?

"He didn't do that with me," said Buffy.

"Nor me," said Jack. "Trust me, if I could have stopped him, I'd have saved my own Cardiff team."

"Rose could have," Buffy offered.

"Nope," said Jack. "The moment Rose got through to the Doctor, the First got worried. The Doctor stopped showing up on the Powell Estates. And instead we got… you know. Caleb. The Bringers."

"The Green Vampires," Rose added, hugging her knees a little tighter.

"And a whole bunch of other stuff that I don't even know the names of," Jack said. "Basically, if it's evil, we've seen it, fought against it, and lived to tell the tale."

"How?" asked Buffy. "I mean, no offense, but I saw you up against those Bringers, and you were getting creamed."

"At first, it was just dumb luck," Jack confessed. "But… by the end... we... had some help."

"The man in the pinstripe suit saved us," Rose told Buffy. "He led us here. He wanted us safe."

Buffy felt her jaw drop.

"I'm telling you," said Jack. "This First thing might have turned the Doctor evil, but when he's around Rose, he goes back to his normal self. Every single time."

"And you actually trusted him enough to follow his directions and come here?" Buffy asked. "Even though you know what he's like? You still trust him?"

"With the world? Not a chance," said Jack. "With Rose's life? Always."

"He didn't show up, at first," Rose said. "When the attacks first started. 'S how Mickey died. But when Caleb was about to kill me, he appeared. And saved my life."

"And stole my vortex manipulator," Jack grumbled.

Buffy felt a little dazed. "So, first he didn't save Rose, and then he did. Why the change in behavior?"

Jack cringed. "That's the part you're not going to like."

Buffy folded her arms, and waited for him to continue.

"The thing is," said Jack, "I'm pretty sure the First Evil worked out that the Doctor would always save Rose. And that, when the Doctor was around Rose, it couldn't control him. So... best way to get rid of Rose? Create a distraction. Basically, every time there was a really violent attack on Rose, in London, the Doctor was always... in Sunnydale."

Buffy felt a chill run through her. "_I_ was the distraction?"

"That's my guess," said Jack.

Two people the Doctor would always save. Buffy. And Rose. With the TARDIS jammed, all the First had to do was make sure both Buffy and Rose were in trouble at exactly the same time...

"Things have been different, since Caleb died," Jack said. "The Doctor must have worked out what the First was doing, and found some way to counteract it. He's been helping us ever since."

"He shows up sometimes," Rose offered. "When we're in trouble. Or he makes things happen when he's not around, to help us get places. And… I think he controls the Green Vampires. At least a little bit. Because when he's around, they never attack us. Sometimes, they help us."

Buffy was speechless.

"See what I mean?" Jack asked Buffy. "Rose is the key to this whole thing. Whatever the First is, it can't hold a candle to Rose Tyler." He gave Rose a grin of pride. "Twelve years old. And she's already threatening entities older than time itself. That's my Rosie!"

Buffy held her head in her hands. "No, wait, wait, wait!" she said. "There's something not right about this. Something I'm missing."

She thought a moment, trying to get her mind in order. She knew the First hated Rose — and not just because of the Doctor-controlling thing. She remembered what the Doctor had said, back when they'd still been down in the Watchers Council basement — that he'd destroyed the First's body. But Rose had been the one to defeat the First's mind.

At some point in Rose's future, she was going to shove the First down a black hole and out of the universe.

Even in Buffy's own original reality, Giles had mentioned a peculiar evil energy lurking around a lower-class housing development in London — as if it were watching with baited breath, waiting for its chance to strike. Waiting for the balance to shift, so it could get its revenge.

No matter what the reality, the First was seriously pissed off at Rose.

That was obvious.

It was just that… Buffy kept getting this feeling that... something still didn't make sense. Why would _Rose_ be the one to freak out the First, when Buffy had never managed to frighten the First even in her own world? Why would _Rose_ be the one to bring back the Doctor's soul, when Buffy knew _she_ was the only one who could do that? Why would…?

No. Stop that, Buffy. You're getting jealous of a twelve-year-old kid. That's insane.

Or… was it really only some irrational jealousy? Buffy kept feeling like there was something about this whole situation she was missing. Something she… should know… about Rose. Something she should remember. But what was it?

"The Doctor keeps saying he wants me to help him," Buffy said. "To ditch my friends, abandon my ideals, and join him instead. Work for his side. Has he ever… said that to you?"

Jack and Rose looked at each other.

"If anything, he seems to be giving Rose the opposite signal," Jack said. "He's doing everything in his power to keep her away from him. And she's offered to come with him, too."

"Jack said I could stop him," Rose said. "I thought maybe… if I was with him… I could make him better."

"He _really_ didn't like that idea," Jack added. "He pretty obviously wants Rose to stick with her mum and Lily."

Buffy looked over at where Rose's mother was holding Lily, singing the child a lullaby. Rocking the child in her arms. There was something about Rose's sister that seemed… familiar to Buffy. Like something about the girl spoke to Buffy on a level she couldn't quite comprehend.

Or was Buffy just missing the sister she knew she'd never have?

"And have you guys been being haunted by a guy with big ears, wearing a leather jacket, who keeps muttering about 'stupid apes' and calling everything 'fantastic'?" Buffy asked.

Jack visibly started at the description. Rose just looked at Jack, curiosity shining through her eyes.

"But that's… that's the…" Jack shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. "Where'd you see him? When? What's he… how's he…?"

"He's not the Doctor," Buffy cut in. "Before you start jumping to conclusions."

"No, no, that's the Doctor!" Jack insisted. "It's… something his species can do. Regeneration. That man you saw, he may not look like the Doctor you know, but he's still—"

"He's non-corporeal," Buffy interjected. "I mean, sometimes. He can change into anyone — alive, dead, existy or not-existy, you name it! And… when you talk to him, he doesn't seem like the Doctor." The Doctor, after all, would never let the First into this universe. He'd never cause a war to prevent a bigger war. Buffy was sure of that. "I don't know what this guy is, but I know three things. He's not the First. He's not the Doctor. And he's really big on messing with history."

Jack thought for several long moments, but couldn't find anything to say.

"We've never seen anyone like that," Rose put in.

"Caleb did threaten that, if _he_ didn't kill Rose, he'd let the most brutal vampire of all time have his way with her," said Jack. He shuddered at the thought. "And, having faced off against Angelus more than once myself, I know exactly how bad that threat is."

So that was why Angel killed himself.

"And you've picked up no signs of any… Dagon-spheres or mystical green energy or anything?" Buffy asked them.

"No," was the answer.

Buffy stared off into the distance, at Rose's mom cradling Lily in her arms. She felt her mind racing through possibilities, questions, answers, and confusion. She was just… _sure_… there was something she was still missing. Something really, really obvious. Something she needed to know.

Dear God, she missed her sister.

"Do you want to hold her?" Rose asked.

Buffy started at the voice, and discovered that Rose had gotten up from her spot on the ground, and was now standing beside her, compassionate eyes fixed on her face.

"Lily," Rose clarified. "You keep looking at her."

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, then stopped, and reconsidered her words. "I... had a sister, once," she confessed. She gave a small laugh. "And she just drove me crazy! I mean, the running off, the kleptomania, the time she nearly burned down the house because she was having a major existential meltdown! But..." She stared into the distance, her eyes losing focus, her jaw trembling as she forced herself not to cry. "...I'd give anything to see her, again."

Rose looked over at Buffy, the concern clear upon her face. Then, in a flash, she ran off to her mum, and began talking. A minute later, Rose returned, the tiny baby in her small arms, eyes glowing as she approached Buffy.

Rose was speaking to the baby, Buffy realized, as the two approached.

"…very nice, yeah?" Rose was telling her sister. "Her name's Buffy. And she really misses her family. So maybe you could help her out."

The baby squirmed, and began to fuss as Rose got closer. Rose stopped, and shushed the child in her arms.

"Shh," Rose soothed. "'S just Jack and Buffy. And we like Jack and Buffy, yeah? They saved our lives." She cuddled Lily until she quieted, and then leaned down and whispered, "Buffy's a Vampire Slayer. Jack says she's gonna save the world."

A gurgle of laughter from Lily.

"Shut up! I'm serious!" Rose protested. She gave a small sigh, and hugged Lily a little closer. "Gotta have some hope, I suppose."

"She's talking like Lily can understand her," Buffy muttered.

Rose looked up at Buffy, a little hurt. "She can," Rose insisted. "Least, I like to pretend she can. And sometimes… I think I can understand her, too. Even though she can't speak, yet. 'S like… a sisterly bond. We share the same blood."

"Lily's a late talker," Jack whispered to Buffy. "Don't worry. A few years from now, they won't be able to shut her up."

Buffy looked back at Jack, as it suddenly dawned on her that… Jack had been in Rose's future. "You've met Lily when she's older."

"Met her in Cardiff," Jack confirmed. "She came with Mickey." He laughed. "You've got no idea how many times the Doctor nearly lost his temper with her! That little girl sure knows how to terrorize a Time Lord. And a Slitheen." His laughter died away, a sincere, wistful, sad smile lingering on his lips. "She's going to be quite a kid. Let me tell you that."

Rose approached, and gently held the child out to Buffy, still talking to her little sister as if they were the best of friends, and Lily could understand everything.

The little girl, with the black hair and large hazel eyes, dimples dotting her cheeks, looking up at Buffy as if… okay, almost as if she recognized Buffy. Just the same way Buffy thought she might recognize Lily.

The baby raised up her hand towards Buffy.

Buffy held out her own, but as her hand lingered centimeters from Lily's tiny palm, she was struck with a sudden feeling of… _knowing_. Some deep connection between them, woven through the chaos of time and history and altered worlds.

Buffy flinched backwards, staggering away from the child, her eyes wide.

Lily, in Rose's arms, seemed just as shocked by the connection. She began squirming and crying, snuggling in tighter to Rose as if begging for protection.

Rose looked between Buffy and Lily, her brow bent in thought.

"What was that about?" Jack asked Buffy, trying to steady her.

Buffy regained her footing, but her legs still felt shaky. The cave still spun, a little, around her. She took a deep breath.

"Nothing," she told them. "Just… nothing."


	27. Chapter 27

"Oh, yeah, Rose and Lily get along really well, in the future," Jack told Buffy, as they wandered through the woods, looking out for vampires and other nasties. Which was a lot harder than either of them had thought, since most of the baddies had fled when they discovered the big evil was coming to town. "There are going to be the usual sibling fights, of course, but in general, they look out for each other." He paused. "I guess that's why Lily and the Doctor never really got along. Lily always resented him taking her sister away. Although… she might just have been jealous that she never got to go along, too." He grinned. "She's a firecracker, that Lily. Great kid."

"Shame none of that's ever going to happen, now," Buffy said. She glanced at her surroundings. "Seeing the state of the world."

Jack said nothing, his silence swallowing a deep plethora of emotions.

"How did you meet the Doctor, anyways?" Buffy asked, trying to stop them both from thinking what they were — inevitably — thinking. "I never got the full story."

Jack gave a charming grin that looked a little too forced. "World War II," he said. "Rose was floating from a barrage balloon, high above London, in the middle of an air raid. I swept her off her feet."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "And the Doctor?"

"I… accidentally… almost destroyed the human race," Jack admitted. "The Doctor stepped in, saved the day, and gave me a piece of his mind. Then he saved my neck when I least expected it." He laughed. "Pulled off a last-minute rescue. That's him all over."

"So where did the 'gas mask zombies' come in?" Buffy asked.

Jack's smile faltered. "He told you about that one, huh?"

"He mentioned it once or twice."

Jack grimaced. "Before you judge, just know that… I was bitter. I'd just got out of the Time Agency and found five years of memories gone out the window. I was a con-man, trying to sell worthless space junk to desperate Time Agents. Except it turned out… one of the bits of worthless space junk had something inside it."

"Let me guess," said Buffy. "Evil alien-demon-type things that started killing people."

"No, just nanogenes," said Jack. "They're little tiny robots designed to analyze the genetic makeup of a creature, and heal any injuries in a second. Except… the first human being they came across was a dead little boy. Killed earlier that evening." A hint of sadness crept into Jack's eyes. "Looking for his mom."

Buffy nodded.

"The nanogenes replicated him," said Jack. "Every human they found, they turned into a little boy searching for his mom. Not just that. An army of soldiers, ready to tear apart the world to find a mother that wasn't even theirs. There just… wasn't enough left of that boy… for him to understand. Change his purpose. Work it out."

A child. Killed. Its remnants scattered across the human race, creating an army. A group of soldiers to fight against the forces of darkness. Even when the essence of what made them who they were might destroy the human race.

Buffy understood that.

"How'd the Doctor fix it?" Buffy asked.

"He found the boy's mother," said Jack. "Used her to reprogram the nanogenes. The nanogenes then zipped around and turned all the humans back to normal, and everything wound up okay. Happy ending!" He gave her a forced smile. "There aren't enough of those."

"No," Buffy agreed. Thinking about her own multitude of unhappy endings.

Jack stopped in his tracks, and put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. Buffy turned around to face him.

"Look, Buffy," said Jack. "That… man in the leather jacket. The one you keep seeing. Are you sure it's not the Doctor?"

"I'm sure," said Buffy. "I get the regeneration thing. And unless the Doctor eventually regenerates into a shape-shifting ghost, it's not him."

"It's just… if this whole thing were to play out," Jack said, "the previous regeneration of the Doctor is still going to show up on Earth in 2005 to defeat the Nestene Consciousness and meet Rose. He'll notice the world is completely different than it's supposed to be, and he'll track down the source of the interference through time, so he can fix it. It makes sense that he'd be here."

"Jack," said Buffy, with a sigh. "I threw a crumpled piece of paper through his body. And he can change shape. Trust me, whoever this is, it's not him."

Jack dropped his hand, his face falling in disappointment.

"Sorry," said Buffy.

"I love that man," Jack confessed to her. He clenched his fists by his sides. "No matter what the face. And whatever's made him like this — evil, remorseless, and uncaring — I want it pulled out of his brain and bludgeoned to death. Slowly and painfully."

"I know the feeling," Buffy muttered.

"Every time I hear what he's done, every time I see the effects of it, it just makes me…" He gritted his teeth, the pain shining through his eyes.

"I've seen good people when they lose their souls," Buffy offered. "Like the Doctor has. You just have to remember — it's not him, anymore. Not inside. Inside, he's a monster."

Jack said nothing for a very long time, his eyes dark, his face grave.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, "He still has a soul."

Buffy stared at Jack. "What?"

Jack glanced up at her. "I don't know what happened. I don't know why. But… he can still feel guilt. I've seen him feel guilt. Every single time I die. Even when I'm not around Rose." He took a shaky breath. "And I know. When you lose your soul… the one thing you never — _ever_ — feel… is guilt."

Buffy didn't know what to say. She shook her head. "No. No! Of course he doesn't have a soul, anymore! He got munched on by vampires! He got taken over by the First!"

"The First's done something to him," Jack said. "I don't know what it's done, or how to fix him. But I'm sure. Deep down inside, the Doctor's still himself."

"Killing people?" Buffy demanded. "Not giving chances? Not caring? Not looking twice after he ended the world? The Doctor would never do that! Not in a million, billion years!"

Jack said nothing for a long time.

"You haven't seen him when he's really, really angry," he whispered. "When he completely loses his temper."

Buffy was about to protest, but then remembered. What happened when the Doctor faced Daleks. How he'd long since lost all hints of pity or compassion when dealing with them, how he could let whole worlds be drained of their life-force energy, or make massive moral mistakes — all in the name of wiping them out.

_When you fight Daleks, you become Daleks._

"The First's manipulating his emotions," Jack said. "Has to be. Making him always act the way he does when he's really, really angry. That's part of why the Doctor's doing all this, now." He sighed. "But, like you said. It doesn't explain it all." He paused, then muttered, "Even against the Daleks, the Doctor chose to be a coward rather than a killer."

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the thoughts from her mind. She _couldn't_ deal with the idea that this was — really _was_ — the Doctor. That all that death and destruction and horror might actually exist in some dark part of the Doctor's actual soul.

"But why?" Buffy demanded. "Why would the First leave the Doctor with his soul? It doesn't make sense! There's no reason…" She stopped, as she realized. As it all made sense. What the man-in-the-leather-jacket had told her. What she'd seen of the First. What she knew. "The balance."

"Between good and evil?" Jack asked. "Universal law of the cosmos. What of it?"

"The Doctor's independent from it," Buffy said. "But only if it's _him_. Take away his soul, and the First has to adhere to the balance, again."

Jack blinked. "Huh?"

"If the First just takes the Doctor over, completely," Buffy explained, "and destroys his soul, then its actions are limited by the balance between—"

"No, I understand what you said," Jack interrupted. "It's just… impossible. Buffy, the balance is a fundamental universal law, laid down eons ago by forces more powerful than we can even imagine. No one is just… immune!"

"Then why's the First able to do all this stuff?" Buffy asked. "Why's the First able to destroy the Slayer Line without waiting for my resurrection? Why's the First able to nearly kill Rose in revenge for her dumping him down a black hole, way before she ever did it? Why's the First able to destroy humanity before it ever began, with no backlash of good rising up in response?"

Jack didn't have an answer to this.

"I don't get how or why, but the Doctor doesn't follow the same rules we do," said Buffy. "As long as the Doctor is still himself, as long as he has his own soul, the First can do whatever it wants."

"As long as he has his own soul…" Jack repeated.

He glanced over at Buffy, who met his eyes with her own. She knew what he was thinking. Exactly what she herself was thinking, now. If the First was only able to act because the Doctor still had his soul, then the best way to make the First powerless — the one way they could ensure that they stopped the First completely…

They both stood very still.

"No," said Jack.

Buffy felt that familiar horrible aching sorrow inside of her, the dread and misery of realizing that death followed her, everywhere, and she was its creator. The sorrow she was now so good at stuffing behind a cold, stone veneer of grim determination.

Because this was 1998.

Buffy reached into her pocket — the place where she kept it, ever since she'd first arrived back in 1998 — and drew out a small, glowing white cube with alien writing etched into the outside. Its glow faint upon her skin.

Jack stared at it.

"It's a Dalek Infiltration weapon," Buffy explained. "Designed to drain your soul completely. Except… it only works on one person."

Jack looked into Buffy's eyes, horror spreading across his face. "You can't…"

"The Doctor knows the location of the Key to Time," Buffy snapped, her hand closing around the Maer'Isa. "He's the only one that can get it. And if Dawn was that powerful — as a single segment — then I really, _really _don't want to see the First gain access to the whole thing."

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but found he had nothing to say.

"The First hasn't found it, yet," Buffy said. "Or it would have used the Key by now. Maybe… only the TARDIS can get to the Key, or something." That would have been something the Doctor would do — make sure Buffy fried the one device that could give the First what it really wanted. "But… if the First ever fixes the TARDIS… if it finds some way to get the Key…" Buffy took in a deep breath, and raised the Maer'Isa up, "…then we use this." She paused, her eyes fixed on the cube. "_I_ use this," she corrected.

At least she could spare Jack that pain.

Jack stared at Buffy. "Buffy…"

His voice appealing to her — begging her for mercy — as if she was still that person she'd been, two years ago. That kind, forgiving, merciful, compassionate Buffy, the Buffy who'd do anything to save her sister.

But that Buffy was dead.

"To save every facet of existence," Buffy told Jack. "Everyone and everything in every universe, past, present, and future. I have to. No matter what the cost to myself, or my best friends, or the people I love. It's my job." She paused, then added, in a softer voice, "And if the Doctor was still himself, he'd want me to."

Jack took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the ground, his jaw set. He seemed to accept this. "If there's any way that we can do this without… killing him…"

"I know," Buffy said, stuffing the cube back into her pocket. She felt her hardness fall a little, at the misery on Jack's face, and gave a long sigh. "There's a chance. A small chance, but… a chance. Spike got better, and he didn't even have a soul to start with. If the Doctor still has his soul, if he's just being manipulated by the First — then there's got to be some way we can get the real him back."

"Using Rose," Jack said.

Buffy shook her head. "No, no, there's something else! Something I'm missing! I keep feeling like… I don't know. Maybe there's some plan!" Her eyes lit up. "Yeah! I mean, maybe the Doctor had a plan, before he turned evil, and just didn't tell us, and we have to figure out what it is!"

Jack gave a humorless laugh. "I don't think the Doctor ever plans that far ahead."

Buffy dropped her head, the light in her eyes extinguished. "I know."

They said nothing for a few long minutes. The only sound was that of the birds chirping in the trees, and the wind rushing through the air.

"What's he planning, now?" Jack asked.

"Something to do with the Hellmouth," said Buffy. "Don't ask me what. If it was your normal Big Bad, I'd say he was trying to open it. But knowing the Doctor, I think it's pretty safe to say it's probably something worse than that. Like… accessing the hidden pocket system beneath it to get some super artifact that could destroy civilizations, or… inverting it, or… I don't know. Punching through it."

"Or something clever that we haven't even thought of," Jack muttered. He grabbed a stake from Buffy's weapons-sack, slung over her shoulder, and marched off into the forest. "Don't want to think about this, anymore."

Buffy went after him. She knew how difficult it was to deal with stuff like this. It was what had hardened her, over the years. What had turned her into the person she was now.

(If the Doctor she'd known, in her world — the Doctor who'd known her, and loved her — could see her, now, what would he think? What would he say? Would he even recognize her, anymore? Would he just shake his head, walk away, and decide she was a lost cause?)

No point in wondering. That world was gone. This was reality, now.

Movement to Buffy's right. She turned, her weapons raised, ready to pounce on her unknown assailant.

There, standing by a nearby tree, was the man in the leather jacket. Arms crossed. Looking on at her with a somber expression on his face. The man that wasn't the Doctor.

"Buffy?" Jack asked, noticing her distraction.

Buffy blinked, and the apparition was gone. She glanced back at Jack. "You didn't see him?"

"See who?"

Buffy sighed, and shook her head. What did it say about her, that she knew basically all the super-powerful entities in the world, and was seriously pissed off at most of them?

She got back to her patrol.


	28. Chapter 28

"There's something wrong," Buffy muttered, as she sat with Jack, later that evening. Sealed up inside their cave. Listening to the monsters prowl around outside. "Something… really obvious." She stared off into the distance, at the spot where Lily had been, earlier that day. Even though no one was there, now.

"You've been saying that all day," said Jack. He noticed where she was looking, and his features softened. In a gentle voice, he asked, "How'd you lose her?"

Buffy jumped, snapping her head around. "What?"

"Your sister," said Jack. "You've been thinking about her ever since you saw Lily."

Buffy sighed, resting her elbows on her knees, and dropping her head. "It's complicated."

"I got time."

"In the future," Buffy said, "I… sacrificed myself. To save her life. Like, the me-being-dead kind of sacrifice. Dead, buried in the ground, tombstone and everything."

"Looking good for dead," Jack offered.

She glanced over at him, pointedly. "_You_ can talk." She shook her head, and looked back down at the ground. "The Doctor… worked out what must have happened. And went back in time…" She swallowed. "And saved my life. By making her never have existed in the first place."

Jack said nothing for a long time.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

Buffy shook her head. "Don't bother." She took a deep breath, then sat up straight. "It's a war. People die. I've learned to live with it."

But Jack's expression was still grave, serious, and deeply sad. "I know what it's like," he confessed to her. "Losing a sibling. When I was a boy, my brother… disappeared."

Buffy blinked. Then blinked again. "Brother…"

"One moment," Jack continued, "he was holding my hand, and the next moment, he was gone." He stared off into the distance. "Can't forgive myself for that."

But Buffy wasn't listening, anymore. Her mind was racing, and she jumped up, her eyes wide, her mouth open, as an involuntary laugh passed her lips. "Oh, God! Oh, God! I'm so stupid!"

Jack stared at her. "Huh?"

"It was a brother!" Buffy cried. "I didn't remember, but Rose… when I saw her, during that year with Glory… it wasn't a sister! She said she had a _brother_! Tony! I _knew_ there was something I was missing, I knew…"

Buffy felt her heart pounding a little faster. As her brain raced through the implications.

"The Slayer never existed, anymore," Buffy continued. "No one to send it to. The Doctor's after it. And the First. They'd know that. So — in _this_ reality — the one person they'd send it to, for protection, wouldn't be me! It'd be… have to be…"

Jack shook his head. "You lost me."

But Buffy was already racing through the cave, trying to locate the baby girl that was — had to be — her sister. Oh, of course! Buffy had sensed that connection, hadn't she? She'd felt something, deep inside of her, and she hadn't realized what it meant. Lily might have another name, other implanted memories, another family, but… deep inside… she was still Dawn. Had to still be Dawn.

Buffy's sister was alive.

"Lily's not real!" Buffy called back to Jack, who was running after her, trying to keep up. "All those memories you have about Lily, they're all implanted. None of that really happened! She's a Key. A mystical Key, hidden by the Monks of the Order of Dagon. They gave it to Rose because they knew that the Doctor would never kill Rose's sister!"

"What are you talking about?" Jack called back.

Buffy sprung into the part of the cave where Lily's crib-hammock was swinging, peacefully. The little child giving a peaceful yawn, her eyes barely open. Buffy reached in and picked her up, hugging her close. Her Dawn. Her sister. Her…

Buffy froze.

"Explain this slower," Jack said, as he approached Buffy. "Rose's sister is actually… a mystical Key… that… some monks were hiding from the Doctor?"

Buffy's eyes grew wide, her hands shaking a little, as they held the child. She pulled the little girl out of her embrace, and stared at her. At those piercing hazel eyes. At that pensive crease across the child's face.

"I was wrong," Buffy whispered. She shook her head. "Oh, I was so, so wrong."

Jack paused. "How?"

Buffy took Jack's hand, and placed it across the child's chest. So he could feel it. The two hearts, beating away, one after another, creating a four beat echo throughout her body.

"Rose's baby sister isn't the Key," Buffy told Jack. "She's the Slayer."


	29. Chapter 29

As if in confirmation of Buffy's remark, the moment Jack touched Lily, she began to squirm away from him, crying out and kicking at his hand. Jack pulled his hand away, as if he'd been burned.

"Said it yourself, didn't you?" came the rough English accent of the Ninth Doctor, in Buffy's ear. "Way back, when you first found out. The little baby who was called a demon. Who was butchered. Massacred. Split across all of time and space. In the end… all she was… was just a baby."

Buffy was expecting some reaction from Jack, but Jack didn't seem to notice the appearance of the leather jacketed man who wasn't the Doctor. He was just looking at Buffy and the Slayer baby, confused, trying to figure out what was going on.

A young, sleep-deprived Rose burst out of the woodwork the moment that Lily began to cry, grabbing Lily from Buffy and shushing her, soothing her, trying to calm her down.

"That baby is… evil," Buffy muttered. "The Doctor said."

"Born to be evil," said the Ninth Doctor. "That make her evil?"

"Yes."

"She's a child," the Ninth Doctor's voice told Buffy. "Killed. Scattered through the human race. Not enough of her left to understand. But enough to know that she's a soldier. Designed to fight. And she'd tear the universe apart to find her mummy. Find her planet." He paused a moment. "Sound familiar?"

Buffy glanced back at Jack. Remembering the story he'd told her. About how he'd first met the Doctor.

"Look at her," the Ninth Doctor urged. "The Slayer. Not the fragment. Not the thing inside your head; not Sineya. The child herself. She look evil to you? She look like some insane, murdering maniac who makes girls either commit suicide, go crazy, or run away? She look like the kind of person who, given half a chance, would destroy the world?"

Buffy's eyes fell on Rose and Lily. Rose grinning at her sister, in that typical Rose-grin, tongue poking out between her teeth. And Lily doing her best to imitate the gesture.

"You saw what the Shadow Men did to Sineya," the Ninth Doctor continued. "Here's the other victim. The child who never got her chance."

"The one who should have died," Buffy whispered. "Way, way in the past. Except… in this reality… she survived. And destroyed the world."

The Ninth Doctor said nothing for a moment, as Lily gave a cheerful giggle, reaching up to Rose. But the action slowed, the giggle turning long and stretching out to last seconds, as time stretched and slowed and stopped around Buffy.

She turned to face the man in the leather jacket. The one who wasn't the Doctor.

"You can save her," he said.

"Or, alternately, I can find a way to send her back in time, and save the world," Buffy said. She felt the bitter unfairness of the situation deep inside of her, but disguised it with a practiced ease.

"Not that," said the Ninth Doctor. "Not here. All this… these people, these places, everything… it'll all go round again. Always does. Too much chaos. Time collapsing in on itself. Unstable." He leveled his eyes at Buffy. "For you. The future. You are Buffy Anne Summers. Last Defender of the Hellmouth. Last Slayer. The last, and the first. And you can save her."

Buffy shook her head. "Huh?"

The Ninth Doctor gave a vexed sigh. "Oh, work it out!" he muttered, as he stormed off, and faded into the air.

The moment he disappeared, time juddered, and started moving again.

"She's… she's got two hearts!" Jack cried. He stared at his hand. "Why didn't I notice that before?" He glanced over at Rose. "Why didn't Rose and Jackie notice that before?"

"I don't know," said Buffy. "Magic, probably. Some kind of… ignoring spell, so you don't notice stuff you didn't want to notice."

"And… that makes her the Slayer… how, exactly?" Jack asked. "I thought the Slayer Line was wiped out before it even started."

"The Slayer was created by a bunch of Shadow Men who killed a baby Time Lord," Buffy said. "Her soul was scattered through the human race, through all of time and space. The reason the Slayer Line no longer exists is because before that baby died, way back in history, someone took her out of time. And brought her here."

"Who?"

"The Monks," Buffy said. "I mean, if you guys all remember Lily — those are implanted memories. They could only have come from the Monks of the Order of Dagon. The monks must have realized how dangerous it would be for the First to get its hands on the original Slayer-baby, so they used the mystical green energy from the Key to reach back through time and pluck her out of the past, before the Doctor could get the chance. Or… I don't know. Something like that. Then they implanted fake memories and magical ignoring spells so you wouldn't notice."

"Yeah, about these… implanted memories," said Jack. "They're not implanted, Buffy. They're real. They have to be."

"Why?" asked Buffy. She then gave a small laugh. "Who's Lily's dad?"

"What?"

"Lily is Rose's half-sister, right?" said Buffy. "So… who's Lily's dad?"

"Howard," said Jack, automatically. "He keeps apples in his dressing gown." He paused, then frowned. "Wait, how did I know that?"

"See?" said Buffy. "They aren't really your memories. Someone's given them to you. You just think they're real."

"No, Buffy, you don't understand," said Jack. "That's not possible. The memories I have of Lily… and of Rose talking about Lily… that covers the time I was on the TARDIS. That's inside a shielded time machine, and in a bunch of completely different times and places. I mean… I even have memories of Lily getting lost inside the TARDIS corridors! All the memories are completely consistent with their surroundings, and no one — not from this time period, or the 51st century, or anywhere — could fabricate memories like that."

Buffy's mind whirled, as she came up with the answer. As she suddenly realized something. Something she really, really should have realized earlier.

The one person who would know every single detail of Jack's trips in the TARDIS.

The one person who'd be both able and willing to snatch the Slayer out of history.

The one person who'd been specifically tracking down the mystical energy that comprised the Key — not to open a portal, or to create another segment, but to use its powers of transmutation and transformation in order to alter memories and landscapes in order to hide the Slayer, and then just let the extra energy dissipate.

The one person who'd seek out Rose Tyler — of all the people in the world — to fix a broken, lonely, and desperate baby Time Lord.

"The Doctor," Buffy said. "He hid the Slayer."

"From you?" Jack asked.

"No," said Buffy, thinking fast. "No, it wouldn't be — couldn't be — from me! You said the Doctor was trying to make sure you and Rose got here. He wanted me to know that the Slayer wasn't in the First's hands. He was hiding her from the First. From Caleb. From all the rest of them."

"But the Doctor's… working for the First," Jack pointed out. "The First's willing servant."

"That's what the First said!" Buffy said. "But the First also said that it had the Slayer, and it doesn't! Which means… which has to mean…"

Buffy felt her head reeling. Because she so desperately wanted this to be true. But scarcely dared hope that it was. Scarcely dared hope that it might be real. But it was real. Had to be. All the evidence supported it.

"The Doctor's _never_ been the First's willing servant," said Buffy. "Ever. The First wants him to be, and the First's probably doing its level best to make him do its bidding, but the Doctor's never been cooperating."

Jack didn't say anything.

"Think about it!" said Buffy. "Is the Doctor acting like Caleb? Is he acting like the First's willing servant? He might have killed innocent people, but he never enjoyed it! It was always collateral damage."

"Buffy…" Jack began, with a sigh.

"He wanted me to have the Scythe!" Buffy continued. "Didn't even sabotage it. He hated the Mayor. Hated Glory. _Really_ hated Caleb. And, I mean, yeah, he destroyed the world, but he did it by saving an innocent little girl!"

"Buffy," Jack tried, again. "He's killing people. Innocent people. The Doctor would never do that."

"But that's what got taken away!" Buffy said. "It has to be. The First's manipulating the Doctor's emotions — we knew that already. But the First didn't take away his soul, when those vampires infected him. It took away something else. It took away the Doctor's ability to tell right from wrong!"

Jack shook his head. "He killed my entire team, and didn't care when I told him it was wrong."

"But I bet he heard you out!" said Buffy. "Gave you a chance to defend your own reasoning. Didn't he?"

Jack faltered.

"Whenever the Doctor's confronted with people telling him that he's doing the wrong thing, he always listens to them," Buffy said. "He might decide that they're incorrect, and do the action anyways, but he still listens! I mean, the Doctor even sought out Giles, to try to figure out what his deal was. Don't you get it, Jack? The Doctor might not know right from wrong, but he's smart, and he's trying to work it out!"

"He isn't," Jack insisted. "You can't convince him that what he's doing is wrong through logical argument. I've tried! You've tried! Unless you threaten him or trick him, he won't change his mind."

"Except with Rose," Buffy pointed out.

Jack faltered.

"It's obvious what's happening," Buffy said. "You used to be a con-man. I was a murderous, psychotic maniac in a different timeline. The two of us are unreliable sources of right and wrong. The Doctor has a shred of doubt about if we're really right, and — because the First manipulates his emotions — it can expand on that little shred until the Doctor's certain we're wrong."

Jack opened his mouth, but no words formed.

"Rose can get through to the Doctor," Buffy said, "because he trusts her instincts completely. There's absolutely no doubt. Nothing dark the First can feed off. That's why."

Jack seemed to digest this, his eyes realizing the sense of Buffy's argument. "But… if that's true… then why did the Doctor turn down Rose's offer to help him? Rose could have explained right and wrong, and the First would have been defeated right away."

"He needed Rose to stay and take care of the Slayer," Buffy explained. "Rose couldn't come with him — not yet — because she had other things she needed to do. That's why the Doctor didn't ask her to come with him. He only ever asked…" Buffy trailed off, as her eyes grew wide, and she finally worked it out. "…me."

And it suddenly became clear to her. What the Doctor had said.

_Come with me._

_You're Buffy Anne Summers. And I've seen your soul._

_When you understand. When you see what I see. You will help me._

He'd given her a choice. Waited until she understood. Waited until she was willing to make the sacrifice — leaving behind her friends, family, and duty as a Slayer — to help him. Waited until she was ready to realize that the help he was asking her for… was not help working for the First. It was help fighting against the First. Help understanding right and wrong, good and evil, help being freed from the controlling influence.

Buffy understood, now. Understood everything.

And she knew what she had to do.

She shook Jack's hand, and gave him her most reassuring smile. "Good luck," she said. She glanced over at Rose. "Keep those guys safe. And everyone else, here."

"Buffy—" Jack started.

Buffy reached into her pocket, and brought out the Maer'Isa. Placed it in Jack's palm. "If I fail," she said, "and everything goes wrong…" She glanced down at the cube. "You know what to do."

"Buffy, this is insane!" Jack insisted.

But Buffy had already turned away. Already gone over to say her goodbyes to Willow and Xander, to tell Faith to stay on the right side, to tell her mother — one last time — that she loved her. The mother that was already sick, in this time before modern medicine. The mother that would be dead before Buffy ever came back.

If Buffy ever came back.

And then it was time. Time to do what the Doctor had prophesied she'd do. She turned to face the entrance of the cave — turning her back on friends, family, and her duty — opened the boulder blocking the door a crack, and stepped outside. Into the night air.

The boulder-door was rolled back behind her with a resounding crash.

Buffy stepped forwards, not surprised to find the familiar pinstripe-suited figure approaching her. His eyes fixed on her own. His face serious, determined. His hand extended.

"I'm ready," Buffy said.

And took his hand in her own.


	30. Chapter 30

Author's Note: I've always thought that Romana would be the perfect specter from the Doctor's past to boss him around.

Enjoy!

* * *

Buffy had been down here, before. Trying to destroy the Doctor's work, trying to unlock the TARDIS, trying to foil the Doctor's plans. Now, she was down here with him. To help him. Down in his lair, his workshop. Down in the belly of the beast.

It looked not unlike any other workshop of the Doctor's. The entire ill-lit chamber strewn with bits and bobs, odds and ends, useless junk and a contraption at one side.

Beside the contraption, the TARDIS.

And at the other end of the chamber, the seal to the Hellmouth gleamed — its surface dug out of the sand but the seal still unopened — in the dusty floor.

Pacing in front of that was a very clearly pissed-off woman, with long auburn hair, wearing a long robe with a ridiculous collar and one of the stupidest hats Buffy had ever seen.

"So you finally convinced her?" the woman snapped. "Brilliant, Doctor. Perhaps now you can get on with the actual work."

The Doctor ignored her, instead picking up a number of items off the floor, and crouching down by his machine, trying to fit them in place.

"Who's your friend with the stupid hat?" Buffy asked the Doctor.

"That's just Toby," the Doctor said, screwing something in with his sonic. "Ignore him. I always do."

"Oh, always," the woman said, with a laugh. "You'd never accept ultimate power over everything just because I offered you the chance to save your friends. You'd never sacrifice the entire universe so a couple ephemeral human lives could live a scant few years longer."

The Doctor muttered something under his breath that Buffy didn't pick up.

"In the end, though, I suppose it hardly matters if you're fighting for me or fighting against me," said the woman, strolling towards them. "Either way, you do more damage than even my most willing servant could."

The Doctor glanced over his shoulder. "You know, you imitate Romana extremely badly."

"Or extremely well," the woman who must have been Romana countered, "depending on whether you look at the Romana before the War, or at the end of it."

The Doctor said nothing, but turned back to his work.

"Fine, then," said the First, its shape morphing from the funny-hat Romana woman into an 18th century noblewoman. "Is this appearance more to your taste, Fireplace Man?"

The Doctor didn't answer, just carried on with his work.

The First morphed again, this time into a young girl with close-cropped brown hair and large, inquisitive, bright eyes. "Or is this better, Grandfather?" she asked.

The Doctor's face grew a shade paler as he heard the voice, and Buffy saw — in an instant — what Jack had meant. That wasn't just pain, written across his features. It was guilt. The Doctor could still feel guilt.

"I'm not letting you into the TARDIS," the Doctor said. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. There's no keyhole."

"Oh, but I'm sure you could if you tried really, really hard," the Doctor's granddaughter begged. "Please, Grandfather. The TARDIS is never going to work again, anyways. Not with you like this. What's the harm in taking it apart?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Nice try." He turned back to his work.

Buffy watched the scene in front of her in confusion. "Why do you want him to disassemble his TARDIS?" she asked the First.

"Because Toby knows that only the TARDIS and myself can get at the real Key," said the Doctor, ducking down underneath the machine to fiddle with some wiring at the bottom. "Temporally and psychically shielded location. Vortex manipulator isn't going to cut it."

"And with the Key, the First can control the universe," Buffy muttered.

"Oh, like he even _cares_ about the fate of the universe!" said the First, with a sulky teenager slouch. "He's only upset about my getting the Key, because he knows. The moment I get my hands on it, the balance disappears. And I can kill him."

There was a loud banging on the door of the TARDIS, from somewhere inside, followed by muffled screaming.

The Doctor twisted another wire. "And you'll kill them, too, I suspect," he added, glancing over at the TARDIS. "I won't let you."

"Oh, no," the First replied. "You wouldn't. You're having far too much fun torturing them." She smiled. "If I ever did kill them for good, they'd thank me for it."

Another sound, from inside the TARDIS, this one fainter and less distinct. One that sounded like a horrified, heart-wrenching sob.

"Who's… in there?" Buffy asked. She took a tentative step forwards, but stopped long before she reached the door of the police box. "What are you doing to them?"

"Potential Slayers," the Doctor replied, popping back to his feet. "And _I'm_ not doing anything to them." He gave the First a pointed glare.

"Rose Tyler got some bizarre idea into his head that killing innocent kids was wrong," said the First, rolling her eyes. "So he lured them all into his blue box of horrors, and locked them inside."

"Where they'd be safe," the Doctor replied.

"Safe?" cried the First. "Grandfather, I can get inside their minds. Manipulate their thoughts. I can drive them all to suicide a thousand times over — and I have."

"They're still alive, aren't they?" the Doctor demanded.

"He's time-looped the inside of the TARDIS," the First told Buffy. "I drive them insane, they kill themselves, the loop resets, and they pop back to life. Just in time for me to do it, again. Torture and torment forever. And thanks to him, they remember every single second of it." She grinned at the Doctor. "Apparently, he no longer understands the concept of a mercy-killing."

"Oh, no," said the Doctor, advancing on the First. "I've worked that one out already. I'm not doing anything else with the word 'killing' in it. That's your game. Not mine."

"But Grandfather," said the First, a sly smile on her face, "didn't you kill all those monks at the Order of Dagon?"

The Doctor said nothing for a moment.

"That wasn't me," he said, at last, turning away. "That was Glorificus."

"Oh, yes, of course," said the First. "I forgot. If you don't do it yourself, personally, it doesn't count as murder."

The Doctor turned on the First, anger in his eyes. "Listen, do you want to help me completely wipe the Slayer Line, the Watchers Council, and every one of its customs and traditions from the face of history? Or not?"

The First glanced over at Buffy, a twinkle in her eyes.

Buffy felt a shiver run through her spine.

"I told you," the Doctor insisted. "If we do this, we do this my way. Rose told me that killing them would be wrong, so I'm keeping them alive."

"Even though you've rewritten history, so they don't know who they were or why they were ever imprisoned in the first place," the First said.

A flicker of hesitation appeared in the Doctor's eyes, but he kept his face firm.

"Give in," the First said, morphing back into the lady — Romana, or whatever — who wore the stupid hat. "Disassemble your TARDIS. Give me what I want."

The Doctor gritted his teeth. "I'm not going to kill or torture my ship," he said. "She's my one true companion throughout the centuries. I won't let you hurt her."

"Oh, of course," said the First. "Because my torturing the ship is far worse than my torturing the people inside."

"Yes, it is!" the Doctor hissed.

"Do you guys always bicker like this?" Buffy asked the Doctor.

"No," said the Doctor. "Usually, Toby's launched some violent psychic offensive, by now, to prove to me that he controls my mind. He's only bickering like this because he's trying to prove to you that I'm a thoroughly despicable person who isn't worth your time."

"Doctor, Doctor, Doctor," said the First, as he morphed into a shrimpy-looking guy with a receding hairline. "You _are_ a thoroughly despicable person. No doubt."

"Drax," the Doctor muttered. "There's a new one. Never seen you turn into him before."

Drax gave a little grin. "Just warming up, here, Thete. You know that."

"Oh, shut up already!" Buffy snapped at the First. "In case you haven't noticed, you're my enemy. I'm not listening to you."

"You know, Doctor," said Drax, pointing his thumb at Buffy. "I think she might hate me more than you."

"I don't think that's possible," the Doctor muttered.

"I've worked it out," Buffy told the First. "The Doctor's not doing what you want. He's fighting you."

"Of course he's fighting me," said the First. "Can't blame him. Selfish, really. He doesn't want to die." He shrugged. "Moment he surrenders, I'm moving in. Compress his brain — just in case I need it, which wouldn't be often — then spread my feet and enjoy my new corporeal existence."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Then I'll help him fight you."

Drax laughed, again. "Trust me, mate. The Doctor may be fighting back, but he's still flipped his lid. Thoroughly despicable. Evil. Whatever word you like. Point's the same. I wiped his sense of right and wrong, I can alter his perception of the world with just a thought, and I can play his emotions like a musical instrument. He's not just a monster, love. He's _my_ monster."

The Doctor turned on the entity, fire in his eyes. "Just leave me alone!" he demanded. "There are six billion other people for you to murder on this planet! Have a go at some of _them_!"

Buffy felt a chill run through her, hearing those words.

"See how far he's fallen?" the First said to Buffy. "Still his soul in there. But I've corrupted it. Turned it black."

"Yeah? Well, that's why I'm here," said Buffy. "To make him better."

"That what you think?" asked the First, vaguely amused. He crossed his arms, and turned to the Doctor. "Better tell her the truth, Doctor."

The Doctor stopped his work, his face completely blank.

And when Buffy saw the cold detachment in his eyes, the malice in his stance, the lack of empathy in his face — as she remembered everything she'd just learned about his actions with the First, the extent of his corruption and cruelty — she knew.

She'd just made a very… _very_… big mistake.

"Toby's right, for once," the Doctor said. "I didn't bring you here to give me a morality lesson."

Buffy backed up a few steps. "Then… why…?"

The Doctor raised up his hand, where he'd already swiped her Scythe. "I brought you here to kill you," he said.


	31. Chapter 31

Author's Note: Ready for some answers?

Enjoy!

* * *

Buffy ran for the exit, but it was locked with a steel door, and even her Slayer skills couldn't budge it. He was advancing towards her, and he had the Scythe, and… Buffy had no idea if it was specifically a _Slayer_ weapon, or if any Time Lord could use it. So she did the next best thing, and ran the other way.

Through a corridor, and into the nearest room she could find. Hiding in one of the corners.

She saw his shadow just outside the door, as it paused, listening. Feeling out. Thinking.

Then he turned, and slammed open the door, entering the room that Buffy was in. The lock sealed behind him, and Buffy knew there was nowhere to hide.

"Nowhere to run," the Doctor announced. "Nowhere to go. No one to save her. And no weapons."

Buffy sprung to her feet, and got into a fighting stance. "I don't need weapons to kill you."

He ignored her. "I've got your little Oblivion Scythe replica," the Doctor continued. "And I'm planning to kill her with it. Full deal. Hack her to pieces. End of the road. Bury the body. Six feet under." He stopped in the center of the room, and glanced around. Then, a little louder, he added, "And you wouldn't want that, would you? You didn't want her dead in the vineyard, and you don't want her dead, here. So if you want Buffy Summers to live, you'd better come out and stop me!"

He stood there, not doing anything, his eyes wandering around the room, a look of increasing annoyance spreading across his face.

"Oh, fine," the Doctor muttered. "If you want a job done right…" He lunged forwards, swiping at Buffy's head with the Scythe. Buffy ducked out of the way, rolling across the ground.

"There!" the Doctor announced to the air. "See? That might have actually hit her! And then where would you be?"

Buffy stared at him, as she got to her feet. "What are you doing?"

"At a guess," came the Northern accent of the apparition that appeared just behind the Doctor's back, "he's trying to summon me."

The Doctor spun around, the Scythe dropping from his hand, as he stared at the entity that had just appeared in the room. "Ah." He scratched the back of his neck. "Now, that wasn't what I was expecting."

The man in the leather jacket glanced over at Buffy. "Wouldn't worry," he told her. "He was never planning to hurt you. Just knew if he threatened you enough, I'd pop by to make sure you were all right."

The Doctor pointed at the man in the leather jacket. "You're not me."

"Nope."

"Who are you?"

The man in the leather jacket gave a little laugh. "Me? Nothing, really. Just a mistake. An accident. Something that shouldn't have happened."

"You can travel through time," the Doctor pointed out. "You can pluck an object from the future, change its purpose, and bring it into the past with no justification for its being there in the first place. And — more importantly — you're far, far more powerful than the First."

The man in the leather jacket shrugged. "In here, yeah. But only in here."

"So who are you?" the Doctor demanded.

The leather jacketed man crossed his arms, and grinned. "Nope! Wrong question! What you should be asking is..." pointing at Buffy, "who's she?"

The Doctor glanced back at Buffy. "Someone you brought into the real world," he said, turning back to the leather jacketed man. "From some other dimension. Or some alternate timeline. Someone you knew would change events, just by being here. She's your… well, your spanner in the works."

"Ah," said the man who wasn't the Ninth Doctor. "Good guess. But wrong way round."

Every trace of warmth drained from the Doctor's face, as he heard those words. "What are you talking about?"

"Wrong way round," the man in the leather jacket confirmed. He nodded over at Buffy. "She's from the real world. I just brought her here for a visit."

"But… but Anya said this is the real world!" Buffy cut in. "And everyone else agreed! They said all the other timelines disappeared."

"Not disappeared, exactly," the man in the leather jacket replied. "They're all right where they're supposed to be. Problem is…" glancing over at the Doctor. "…you're not."

The Doctor was staring at the man in the leather jacket, open-mouthed. "No."

"Worked it out, then?" asked the leather-jacketed man.

"But that's… that's just…" The Doctor shook his head. "That's impossible!" He looked around him, then pointed to the ground. "This! This, here! This is the Axis?"

"Yep," said the man in the leather jacket. He gave a grimace. "Sorry 'bout that."

"What's the Axis?" Buffy asked them.

"The Axis is like a… quarantine system," the Doctor said, spinning on his trainers to face Buffy. "A vast quarantine system for sick timelines. Looks sort of… like a wheel! With the Axis Hub at the center, and every sick timeline a spoke reaching out from it. But the timelines have to play out — otherwise the system falls apart! So they loop. Round and round and round, over and over again, these sick timelines play out, where the world ends and everyone dies and catastrophe occurs. Everything that should never have happened, repeated forever. And no one inside the timeline remembers." He paused a moment, his face growing somber and sad. Then forced a grin, his previous emotion gone in a second. He gestured over at the man in the leather jacket. "And all this is overseen by a Universal Guardian calling itself… well, the Overseer." He dropped his hand. "Except… the Universal Guardians fled at the end of the Time War." He put his hands in his pockets, and stepped towards the man at the other end of the room. "Which means you're not the Overseer."

"Nope," agreed the man in the leather jacket.

"And as far as I can tell," said the Doctor, continuing forwards, "you're not stark raving mad, either. Which discounts the possibility that you're Jarra To."

"Not Jarra To," the man in the leather jacket confirmed. "Told you. I'm an accident. A mistake. Not important."

"No, no, no," the Doctor said. "You're very important. The most important one of all! You're immortal, eternal, omnipresent and probably omniscient — although who knows how far that goes, these days — but…" he peered at the man, analyzing him. "…you're not like the rest of that immortal, eternal lot."

"Never was."

"You can _feel_, can't you?" the Doctor asked. "Emotions. Caring. You feel sorry for me." Glancing at Buffy. "You feel protective towards her." Back at the man. "You feel disgust towards Toby."

"A pan-dimensional being," agreed the man, "with the soul of a human."

The Doctor's enthusiasm faded a hair. "Oh, you poor, poor man."

Buffy looked between the two. "Huh?"

"Eternal, omniscient, omnipresent," the Doctor said. "He can see every death that ever happened, ever will happen, ever could happen — and he feels them all."

Buffy glanced over at the man in the leather jacket, and she could see in his face… a sorrow deeper than any she'd ever seen before. A sorrow deeper even than the sorrow she'd seen in the Doctor. There was suffering in that face — an eternal suffering of one who continually sees too much pain, and cannot shut his eyes.

"I can't stop it all," the man in the leather jacket said. "Try. Do my best. But there's always a price. Clear up a war in the future, and lives are lost in the past."

"Oblivion War," the Doctor said. He picked up the Scythe from the ground, and swung it through the air a few times. "Explains this, then. What were you trying to do? Pick up where I left off?"

The man in the leather jacket gave the Doctor a dark look, but said nothing.

"Oh, come off it!" the Doctor protested. "If you can really see the future, you know as well as I that the Oblivion War is an inevitable conflict, whose origins span back millennia. There's only one way to prevent the Oblivion War — and that's to completely wipe the Slayer Line, the Watchers Council, and every one of its customs and traditions from the face of history."

The man in the leather jacket looked over at Buffy. "Or change the future."

The Doctor glanced at Buffy. Then back at the man in the leather jacket. "Ah," he said. "You've worked out something awfully clever, haven't you?"

"She asked me for help," the man in the leather jacket said, glancing over at Buffy. "I decided to do it. Give her a hand. Looked back through her timeline, to try to do what she asked…"

"And while you were looking, you noticed one little thing you could change," the Doctor concluded. "One tiny little event you could switch around. And, in doing so, you'd stop one of the most devastating intergalactic wars of all time."

The man in the leather jacket sighed. "She's right, though," he said, nodding at Buffy. "Didn't just stop a war. Started one, too. Let innocents die. Let evil gain a foothold." He looked away from Buffy, his eyes etched in sorrow. "Ruined her life. Again."

The Doctor looked at the man in the leather jacket with a glimpse of that sympathy he once had. But it was gone in a flash, and he was back to springing around the room, talking animatedly, hands flying through the air as he spoke. "So! How'd someone like you wind up somewhere like the Axis? If that really is where we are—"

"It is," said the man.

"—even though it's utterly impossible," the Doctor continued.

"I found it," the man in the leather jacket replied. "Abandoned, after the Time War. No people, no timelines, no Overseer, no nothing. Just a hub, and a bunch of empty spokes. So I moved on in. Thought it'd work. Suit my purpose."

"And that purpose would be…?" the Doctor asked.

The man in the leather jacket said nothing.

"No, right, course you wouldn't tell me," the Doctor replied. "They never do." He ran a hand through his hair. "So, if this really is the Axis, then why am I stuck in here?"

"You're always in here," the man in the leather jacket said.

"After all, I'm a Time Lord," said the Doctor. "Time Lords never wind up stuck in the timelines in the Axis. We're the ones changing the timelines in the first place."

"You're always in here," the man in the leather jacket repeated.

"And even when we've mucked something up, the quarantine procedure should cut me out, automatically. Temporal beings are always…" The Doctor trailed off, and frowned. "What do you mean, I'm always in here?"

"The Axis once quarantined timelines that threatened the main timeline of the universe," said the man in the leather jacket. "Now, it quarantines timelines that threaten the main timeline of one individual."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Who, me?"

"You're always in here," the man in the leather jacket said. "And by the end of the timeline, by the point time loops round again, you always work out where you are. What's happening. Why. Every single version of you." He gave a sad laugh. "Even the one where Buffy decided not to restore your memories."

"The Axis is sequestering different versions of _me_?" the Doctor asked. "My personal timeline? All the what-ifs and never-happeneds of my personal life? Everything I might have done or could have done or never should have done that would drastically change the outcome of my life?"

"Yep."

"But… why?" the Doctor asked.

"'S my job," said the man in the leather jacket. "My purpose. Why I was created. You get into danger; you love getting into danger — can't change that. But when it all goes horribly, horribly wrong, can always splinter the possibilities, and quarantine the ones that don't work."

The Doctor stared at the man in the leather jacket, his eyes half-way between horror and curiosity. "Who are you?"

The man looked into the distance. "The First once had a body," he said. "But lost it when he was defeated on Krop-Tor." He glanced back at the Doctor. "Once had a corporeal existence, myself. Gave it up voluntarily. That's who I am." He shrugged. "Can only become substantial for a short time, now."

"Gave it up?" the Doctor asked. "But that's a miserable existence! I've seen entities destroy entire planets — entire galaxies — even entire universes, just to gain some semblance of a corporeal existence! Toby's prepared to unlock the Time War just so he can use the power of the Key to get back his body. Why in the Seven Systems would you give yours up?"

"Question for you," the man replied. "When you have a timeline chopped out of time, sequestered in the Axis, in which the people are sentenced to eternally loop their lives round and round — does that make them any less real than the people out there? Does that make you any less real than Buffy, over here?"

The Doctor didn't answer.

"Asked myself that a lot," the man in the leather jacket said. "As I watched them die. Over and over again. You. Rose. Martha. Donna. Buffy. So many others." He glanced back at Buffy. "Angel's died a thousand deaths a thousand times, every one of them brave. Noble. Every one of them showing how good he really is. But outside the Axis, he's still alive. That make any of these Angels less than the real one? That make those thousands of deaths meaningless?"

Buffy wasn't sure how to answer this.

"I live in a land where people die over and over again," said the man. "Doomed to eternal death, eternal struggle, eternal destruction. Can't change the timelines, substantially — would destabilize the Axis itself. Can't get rid of them without blowing time apart. Can't let them go, for fear they'd infect the real timeline. But there is one thing I can do." He gave a small, sad smile. "Can give up my corporeal existence, allow myself to be in more than one place at more than one time, then enter each of the fractured timelines, and make sure that no one has to die alone."

The Doctor's jaw dropped. "Oh."

The man in the leather jacket grinned, and nodded at the Doctor. "You worked out who I am, yet?"

"But that's not… you can't possibly be…" the Doctor paused. Then his eyes lit up, as his mind finally worked it all out. Made sense of everything.

"She said she wanted me safe," the Doctor muttered.

"Yep."

The Doctor gave a small laugh. "She really couldn't control the energy at all, could she?"

"Not one bit."

Buffy just stared on at the two Doctors, trying to figure out if they were ever going to explain this to her, or if she should just assume that they were on some Doctor-Super-Brain-Off and weren't planning on explaining anything.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy tried.

The Doctor spun around, remembering Buffy. He sprung towards her. "So, if that's your origin and your purpose, what's with her? Buffy Anne Summers? She's not part of your job. Got nothing to do with your origins."

The man in the leather jacket gave a toothy grin. "Call her a hobby." He sighed. "And I seem to have a hard time saying no to her."

"Okay, seriously," said Buffy, "what's going on?"

The man in the leather jacket looked over at her. "At the moment," he said, "the Doctor's about to realize what he always realizes, at this point in the timeline."

And sure enough, the Doctor's face suddenly transformed into one of horror. He turned to the man in the leather jacket. "Toby. He's in my head. Reading all my thoughts. Everything I know, he knows. Everything I see, he sees."

"Yep," said the man in the leather jacket.

"You're shielding it right now," the Doctor said. "I can feel you. But you can't shield me forever. The moment you leave, Toby's going to find out. About the Axis. About you. That this timeline is a trap."

"And he'll find out about Jarra To," the man in the leather jacket agreed. "The one entity you encountered, before, that escaped the quarantine. That managed to get into the real Axis, and use it to her own advantage."

"Why did you tell me?!" the Doctor shouted. "Why did you let me know? If I know, Toby knows! He'll escape! And the moment he escapes the quarantine, he'll be stronger than you."

"I told you because I always tell you," said the man in the leather jacket. "Every single version of you. Every single time the timelines loop. I always try to make sure no one dies alone, and I always try to make sure you know the truth, by the end. Because you have a right to know."

"The moment Toby finds out, he'll do everything in his power to escape!" the Doctor insisted. "He _will_ escape."

The man in the leather jacket put his hands in his pockets. "Course he won't. Because you know what that would entail."

The Doctor said nothing for a long moment. "No," he said. "No! That's not fair! I don't want to…"

"But you always will," said the man in the leather jacket. "To save a friend. That is your nature."

The Doctor didn't answer.

The man in the leather jacket stepped past the Doctor, and went over to Buffy. "Sorry about the deception," he said. "Had to make you think this was all real. Or you'd never take it seriously."

"I've still got absolutely no idea what the hell you guys have been talking about for the last five minutes," Buffy said.

"You will," the man in the leather jacket informed her. "Eventually." He nodded back at the Doctor. "Go easy on him. He's one of the more disturbed versions of him in the Axis, but he's still the Doctor. I trust him."

Buffy glanced at the Doctor, then leaned in closer to the man in the leather jacket, and whispered. "I don't get why. He ended the world!"

"He saved a child," said the man. "A baby girl he should never have saved. Gave her a future she should never have had." He gave a small smile. "Can't condemn him for something I've done myself."

Buffy blinked. "Wait, what?"

The man in the leather jacket stepped back, and turned to address the Doctor and Buffy, his large grin back on his face, his clear blue eyes still sad-looking, but determined. "Right, then!" he said. "Better get going. Got timelines to sort out. People to look after. And a few more impossible requests from a certain Slayer—" winking at Buffy, "—to take care of. Some of which require me to take on corporeal existence — in the real world. Outside the Axis. So, best be getting on with that!" His smile dropped, and he turned to the Doctor. "You know what you have to do."

The Doctor said nothing, but gave a small nod.

"Fantastic," said the man in the leather jacket, as he faded away.


	32. Chapter 32

Author's Note: One of my readers asked, at some point, how the First could be one and the same as the Beast of Krop Tor. This section, I hope, goes a certain way towards answering that question.

Just so you know that I have still been rewriting my stuff based on your reviews and comments.

(As I finish up the massive rewrites I've just made to the end of this story, based on your comments on the last chapter.)

Enjoy!

* * *

The moment the man in the leather jacket left, a howl rushed through the air, and the entire room flooded with the aura of all that was the First. All that was evil, deadly, horrible, the darkest places in your soul that infect you in your worst hours.

The Doctor cried out, dropping to the ground, his hands clutching his head. He was shaking.

"You can't fight me, Doctor," came the echoing voice through the air. "I know all your secrets. All your thoughts. Every crevice of your mind. You are my puppet. My servant. My new vessel."

Another cry of pain from the Doctor.

The swirling aura froze, lingering in the air for a second. "No…"

Then it coalesced, turned into the Romana woman with the long hair and the funny hat, her eyes staring daggers at the Doctor.

"A trap?" Romana shouted. "I've been placed in a trap?"

The Doctor didn't answer.

"Everything that's happened, this entire world, this entire reality — it's nothing!" Romana screamed, rushing towards the Doctor. "An endless loop! Going round and round and round forever! Never changing! Never achieving anything!"

The Doctor still said nothing.

Romana crouched down by the Doctor, her anger radiating through her, her eyes terrible and biting. "Get me out of here!"

"Impossible," the Doctor muttered.

Romana held out her hand over his head, and he curled in on himself once more, giving a soft moan as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Romana gave a sly little smile, as she dropped her hand. "Possible," she amended. "You've seen it done before."

"That was different," the Doctor gasped.

"Jarra To," announced the First, rising to her feet once more. "A being originating in a quarantined timeline. But she found a way out, didn't she? Into the Hub of the Axis. And she nearly made it into the real universe, itself." She stepped back from the Doctor. "No. No, you're right, Doctor. This time, it's very different." She spun around, her fiery eyes fixed on Buffy. "This time, we've got someone in here who's going to _have_ to break quarantine."

Uh, oh. Now Buffy was in trouble.

Romana paced towards Buffy. "You've got a friend in the Hub," she said. "A friend who'd never let you rot in here. Your… _overseer_. Your guardian. When this timeline ends, we all go back to the beginning. Except for you. You get taken out of here. Put back into the real world." Her eyes gleamed, as she stopped, directly in front of Buffy. "Seems like all this time, I've been chasing after the wrong person to be my new corporeal vessel."

"Wait!" shouted the Doctor. He peeled himself off the floor, a hand extended towards the First. "I surrender!"

Romana spun around to face the Doctor. "You what?"

"If you spare her," the Doctor said, "I'll let you take me over, instead. I'll stop fighting. I'll…" He hesitated, looked over at Buffy, then seemed to make up his mind. "If you let her live, I'll let you kill me."

Buffy stared at him. "What?"

Romana looked on, vaguely amused. "Well," she said. "That's interesting. I didn't put that emotion into your head." She tilted her own head to the side, as if reflecting. "It seems you still have some compassion left in you. Just a smidgeon that you clung to — for dear life — as I took everything else away from you." She raised her eyebrows. "Unless this is a trick."

"No trick," the Doctor promised. "Just let her go, and you can do whatever you want with me. Won't even fight back! Promise."

Romana straightened, looking between Buffy and the Doctor with keen eyes, deliberating between the two.

"She won't last out the century," the Doctor said. "Just a human. You know what they're like. Minds underdeveloped, intelligence capacity little more than an ape. Not worth the effort, really. And even for her species, this one's exceptionally dull. Petty, childish." He gave a sniff, then wrinkled his nose. "Smells a bit, too."

"Excuse me!" Buffy snapped.

"And bad tempered!" the Doctor put in. "Honestly. You go off to conquer all the world, and you choose to do it in some pitiful little body like hers?"

The First nodded at the Doctor. "Point taken, Doctor."

And then the form of Romana dispersed into the air, flooding around the room and crashing towards the Doctor. There was no scream, this time. No struggle. No shaking or gripping his head. The Doctor simply fell to the ground, limp, exhausted, and gave in.

"No," Buffy whispered.

She was angry at him. Furious at him. She'd had hopes that he could be better and had found them all dashed to pieces. She'd seen him kill, destroy, murder. She'd seen him destroy the world before her eyes. She'd watched him sentence the Potential Slayers to endless torture and torment inside a space ship he could never open. She'd heard him confessing his desire to wipe the Slayer and its customs from history.

But in the end, he was still the Doctor. The one that would give up his own life to save hers. Every single time.

And she'd killed him.

"No!" she said, louder.

She ran forwards, dropping down beside him. He wasn't real, she remembered that. He was a copy, a potential, a possibility, looping around and around and around in a quarantined timeline inside the Axis. But he felt real. It all felt real. And watching him die to save her felt just as horrible as all the times he'd tried it, back in the real world.

Then his eyes opened. But they weren't brown — or even black — this time. They were red. Red and glowing with fire.

"A body," said the man who was no longer the Doctor, as he sat up, looking at his hands. His voice was smooth, silky, deep, with an American accent. An odd voice to be coming out of that body. "A real body."

Buffy backed away, reaching for the Scythe, but found herself now frozen in the middle of the air, unable to move a muscle.

The First looked down at itself, a smile crawling across its lips. "Such power," it mused. "Such raw, surging power. To be able to reach in and manipulate everything in the world once more!"

It snapped its fingers, and Buffy found herself released. She stumbled a little, trying to regain her footing, when the cave shook around her, and a heap of dirt and rocks tumbled down from the ceiling.

Buffy darted out of the way, barely missing getting smooshed.

"Oh, you don't know how long I've missed that!" the First cried, getting to its feet. "The ability to influence, control, destroy. The power of death in my hands, again!"

"Doctor…" Buffy whispered.

The First turned to examine her, a twisted smile on his face. "Dead," he said. "I consumed him. Devoured him." His smile widened into a grin. "Best thing I ever did, removing his ability to tell right from wrong. That way, it was almost guaranteed. He was the Doctor — he saved people. That was his nature." He laughed. "And, like this, he'd always decide to save a single person at the expense of the whole world." He paced towards Buffy. "Or… maybe several timelines."

"Don't you come near me," said Buffy.

"The poor, noble Doctor," said the First. "Giving up his life for yours. A naïve, foolish gesture. Your mind is being blocked by something powerful. I couldn't get at your mind at all — not unless I gained corporeal existence." He took another step forwards, and spread his arms. "But now that I'm back in the game…"

Buffy lunged for the Scythe, but the First just laughed as she brandished the weapon at him.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid girl," said the First. "Do you really think that can stop me, now?"

Before Buffy knew what was happening, she was surrounded, on all sides, by Uber-Vamps, their green skin accentuating their hungry eyes — no longer yellow, but now bright red — their teeth clacking and their jaws drooling, as they seized her.

"I have wired the Doctor's brain," the First said, "to be the center of the Singularity. Preparing for my manifestation. Now, even in the flesh, the Turok-Hans obey my every order. My every whim. I have only to think something, and they respond."

Buffy felt the Scythe leave her hands, as she was hauled forwards, shifting and struggling frantically to get out of the Uber-Vamps' grips.

The First turned, without a word, and led them all back to the Hellmouth.


	33. Chapter 33

Author's Note: And what is the Scythe?

Ta da!

(Wow, only two more chapters before the end of this story. That's kind of scary. I'd better read over the next story and make sure it's okay.)

* * *

"I'm surprised you never asked," said the First as they entered the room, "what this contraption does."

"I'm surprised that you've resorted to doing the whole evil-villain-gloating thing," said Buffy. "Or… no, wait, don't tell me. Origin of all evil. You _invented_ evil-villain-gloating, didn't you?" She cracked a smile. "On behalf of good guys everywhere, thanks for that."

"You've guessed that this machine opens the Hellmouth," the First explained, ignoring her. "But it also absorbs the energy the Hellmouth emits, to serve another purpose." He stood beside the seal to the Hellmouth, triumph written across his features. "The power to pour my essence into any vessel I choose."

Okay, that was bad.

Buffy kicked out, trying to get free from the Uber-Vamps, as they strapped her into the machine. But they were too strong, and she couldn't get free. Couldn't even reach the Scythe that was now propped up — tantalizingly close, but just out of reach — against the far side of the machine.

"Your mind may be closed to me, now," said the First, "but using the Doctor's body, I will be able to take it for myself. To use you as the gateway to the real world."

The First glanced over at an Uber-Vamp, who responded to the gesture, flipping on a few switches on the machine.

Buffy felt the ground shake, the whole Earth roaring as if in pain, as the seal began to shift on the Hellmouth. She struggled to break free, but the Uber-Vamps were still encircling her, the straps holding her were insanely strong, and she couldn't stop this. Couldn't stop any of it.

The First spread his arms in triumph. "The Doctor gave up his body to save you!" he shouted at Buffy. "But in giving it up, he gave me the means to destroy you! A noble gesture turned to something nasty! And that will be the essence of the world! The essence of the universe! All things that were once good will become evil! All things will become _me_!"

Buffy gritted her teeth, yanking on the unrelenting straps one more time.

"Come on, Mr. All-Powerful Leather-Jacket No-Name!" she gritted out. "You're supposed to be helping me, here!"

An annoyed sigh rushed past her ears, as the essence of a person surrounded her.

"Never get it, do you?" a disembodied voice with a Northern English accent whispered into her ear. "My superpower is mucking about with history. So by the time you actually ask me for help…"

Another rumble of the ground around her, and the Scythe tumbled from its resting spot, catching on a stray bit of machinery and falling right at Buffy's feet.

"…I've already done it," said the man who wasn't the Ninth Doctor.

Buffy felt a smile creep up her face, as she realized. He'd said, hadn't he? He'd told her, before, that the Scythe was only here, in this reality, because she asked him to get it here. Which she'd just done. Oh, good going, Buffy!

She reached out her foot, hoping to flip the handle so it launched into her hand, but the First noticed the motion, and snapped his head around.

"No!" he cried, dashing forwards.

Buffy stomped down on the handle, and the Scythe flipped into the air, just in the arc she'd planned for it. But before she could manage to catch it, the First had swiped it out of the air, and jumped back.

"Gotcha!" he said, holding the Scythe with both hands. He raised it up for Buffy to see. "Your weapons are mine. Your defenses have crumbled. You are weak and helpless, and I will triumph. Not even the Doctor could stop me, Buffy Summers! What hope do you…?"

And then the First's eyes grew wide, and the glow began to leave them. Behind him, the seal across the Hellmouth creaked, and Buffy could feel — something — pouring out of it. Something invisible. Something powerful.

Something that swirled through the air and zeroed in on the Scythe, racing through it and rushing into the pinstripe suited body.

The body threw its head back, its jaw moving but no sounds coming out, and when it looked back at Buffy, the eyes were brown once more.

"Haven't stopped you, _yet_, you mean," said the Doctor.

Buffy felt her jaw drop open, her heart racing. He was… alive! No, wait, of course he was, this was the Doctor, the one who tricked and pretended in order to play his enemies at their own game. She'd seen him do this before.

His eyes glowed red, and for a moment, he was the First, again. "What have you done?"

"It's a regenerative recycler, Toby!" the Doctor replied, holding up the Scythe. "That's what this Scythe really is! A weapon of death turned into a weapon of life! And the one thing that there's a lot of, when you open the Hellmouth — the one thing that Omega was stockpiling, throughout the centuries — is regenerative energy. _Slayer _regenerative energy! Use the Scythe to channel that kind of energy through anyone with the merest hint of a Time Lord essence, and the Time Lord inside comes out!"

Another rumbling sound, as the world around them shook.

"You wanted to pour your essence into every person on Earth, Toby," the Doctor said. "You wanted me to build a machine that would allow you to do that. A machine that would allow you to send your evil into any place or person you desired. And I built that machine. Calibrated it. Adjusted where it sends your essence. But there's one thing you forgot."

The Doctor ran forwards, anger and rage and determination in his every step, and slammed the Scythe down into the red crystal attached to the top, splitting the crystal in two.

"I am _not your slave_!" the Doctor shouted.

With that action, sparks shot out of the machine, and Buffy felt something tugging at her, a tremendous force, as if something was trying to tear her out of the restraints, but couldn't manage it.

The seal across the Hellmouth shattered like glass.

The Doctor, still clutching onto the handle of the Scythe, laughed, as the Hellmouth seemed to gape, wider and wider.

"Open the Hellmouth?" the Doctor said. "You think I'd just open it? I've ripped into it, tapped into its energies, and managed to reverse them."

The ceiling buckled under the pull of the Hellmouth, and then collapsed, sucked into the gaping maw of Hell.

"You're going back to Hell, Toby!" the Doctor cried. "And so is everything else you've pulled through into this world!"

Buffy's restraints snapped, and she tumbled against the metal cage, as she saw the vampires, demons, Bringers, Uber-Vamps — all of it — flying through the air and being sucked into the Hellmouth.

The Doctor adjusted his grip on the Scythe, climbing upwards on the handle, trying to hold himself steady. A stream of black air, a feeling of evil and hatred and malice was suddenly ripped from the Doctor like a scab, pouring out towards the Hellmouth.

Then the Doctor cringed, as if struck with another headache, and when he opened his eyes, they were glowing red.

"If I die, Doctor," said the First, "then you die, too."

And he let go.


	34. Chapter 34

Author's Note: One more chapter, after this.

* * *

Buffy could hear someone screaming and only realized, a few seconds later, that it was herself. As she watched the sudden fear creep into those now-brown eyes, as she watched him tumble into the Hellmouth, as she watched it close, and the ground stop shaking.

She put her hand up to her eyes, and realized she'd been crying.

No. Keep it together. She dropped her head, staring at the ground, determinedly. This was war. People died. Everyone died. That was just what happened.

The crackle of static, then an announcer's voice ringing through the air. "…twenty million dead, today, as the Slayer joined the fight."

"I just want to defend my galaxy!" came the female voice that accompanied it. "In the name of the Watchers Council, the Earth, and the Milky Way, we will destroy these forces of darkness, whatever the cost!"

Another crackle of static, and another announcer, this one's voice overlapping the first. "…Watchers Council has no comment on these proceedings…"

Buffy shot up her head, to find that the landscape around her had gone. That the entire world had faded into a black nothingness, an empty void, save for two patches of space, nearby, showing vignettes of people, reporters, news bulletins. No, not just that. Somehow, Buffy knew that these were just windows. Gateways. That these were showing her entire worlds.

Another crackle of static, as another scene popped into existence, a girl with an angry, determined expression on her face.

"You killed my Watcher!" the girl screamed, as she hacked the unarmed humanoid person apart. "You don't deserve to live!"

And another voice, somewhere else, as another scene appeared.

Then another.

And another.

Until they surrounded Buffy, swirling in on her, pressing against her head as if overloading her, overwhelming her, making her unable to tell one from another from reality.

Then they stopped, froze in place.

"Maddening, isn't it?" came the voice of the Ninth Doctor.

Buffy got to her feet, her breath coming far too fast, her heart still racing from everything that had just happened. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Went through time, me," said the not-Ninth-Doctor. "Saw the Slayer. From her origins…"

A scene popped up, of a struggling Sineya, screaming and chained up, as the Shadow Men banged their staffs against the ground and watched a black apparition consume her.

Then the scene shifted to show — Lily, that little baby Buffy had held — in the hands of the Shadow Men, as they recited an incantation over her. One raised up a dagger, just above the girl's hearts, and brought it down…

Buffy looked away.

"…to her end," said the Not-Ninth-Doctor.

The scenes of the Shadow Men faded, and the many images and newscasts Buffy had seen before sprung into life, again, all showing murder, bloodshed, death and destruction.

The Not-Ninth-Doctor waved a hand, and they all faded away.

"The enemy got their hands on the Oblivion Scythe, in the end," he said. "Used it against the Slayer. Trapped the Slayers, the Potentials, the Watchers — everyone — in Hell. Forever. The end of the Slayer Line."

He clapped his hands, once, and then Buffy could see other scenes, playing out before her eyes.

The Slayer, flying through the air of a futuristic landscape, Scythe in hand, then heading towards an incoming alien space ship.

The Slayer, on a planet that was obviously not Earth, fear in her eyes and terror in her voice, as she died alone, in pain, and having failed her mission.

The Slayer, her arms mechanized, her head part cybernetic, stomping through a warzone, her eyes filled with death.

"So many possibilities for the future," the Not-Ninth-Doctor said. "All tragic. Inevitable. Unchangeable. All necessary to the survival of the world, but with such terrible consequences." He turned to her, and gestured at the images, in turn. At the first one. "The 23rd century." At the second one. "The 54th century." At the third one. "The 39th century."

Buffy blinked. Then blinked again. "Wait, wait!" she said. "I've seen the 39th century! That's not what it looks like! That's not…"

The images disappeared, replaced by the IPSA ship that Buffy remembered, and a plethora of girls, determined expressions on their faces, chanting:

"We are…!"

"The Chosen Ones!"

"And we fight…!"

"Against the forces of darkness!"

"To bring…!"

"Peace, Unity, and Harmony!"

The scene paused, and the Not-Ninth-Doctor looked back over at Buffy. "This is what you've seen?"

"Yeah," said Buffy.

The scene faded away, and the Not-Ninth-Doctor folded his arms. "The actions that took place, in the real world. Just before you came here. They changed the balance of futures."

Oh. Okay, then.

"The most likely future, right now, _isn't_ the future you've seen," said the entity. "Not the one with IPSA and hope and courage. Not anymore. The most likely future, right now, is the Oblivion Wars, the darkness, the desolation and despair and loneliness." He gave her a pointed look. "But you can change that."

"I can?"

"The future you've seen, with IPSA, with an army of Slayers, is now just a potential," the entity told her. "But it doesn't have to be. You can create the future with IPSA. Give back the hope. The strength. The determination. I've given you the tools you need — to change the future. But _you_ have to make it happen."

Buffy frowned. Confused.

"And… another thing," said the entity. "After you've worked that out. Worked out how to change the future. One other thing you have to do, to make sure the new future sticks."

"What?"

"There is one thing that every other potential future for the Slayer had," said the entity, "which your IPSA future did not. One fundamental change, which altered the Slayer Institution permanently. Shifted it so that the training, the discipline, the students all followed your ideals — and not the old ideals."

A chorus of voices welled up, again — all the sound-bites from the scenes that had surrounded Buffy at first, the ones about the Oblivion War. And Buffy could hear, now, through the cacophony, two words that kept coming up. Over and over again.

_Watchers Council._

"They didn't know what a Watcher was," Buffy realized. "Jordan and Laura. From the 39th century. They'd never even heard of it."

"The future is in your hands," said the Not-Ninth-Doctor, as the sounds faded around them. "I've put it in your hands. Because I trust you. And you asked me for help." He met her eyes with his own. "The Watchers Council is the old ways. The old traditions. It is up to you to break the cycle. Break the pattern of the old ways."

Oh. Okay, then…

"You, Buffy Anne Summers," said the Entity. "You are a new way. A new hope in the darkness. A new inspiration to follow. After all this is over, make sure. Don't go back to the old ways. Do not re-found the Watchers Council. No matter what."

Buffy felt a flush of frustration run through her. "Look, who the hell are you?" she shouted. "You keep saying I asked you to do stuff, you keep saying you know me and you trust me, but I don't even know who you are!"

"You don't know me," the man agreed. "But you know my creator."

And then the man's image shifted, blurred, and burst with a glowing light nearly too bright for Buffy to look at. She shielded her eyes, and glimpsed through the brightness. At the image of the girl, who walked with golden eyes and the hint of tears streaming down her cheeks.

A girl Buffy recognized.

"Rose?" she asked.

"The Doctor sent her away," said the echoing voice of Rose Tyler. "When he was in his ninth body. He sent her away, so she'd be safe, while he faced the Daleks alone. But she could not bear to let him die. So she opened the heart of the TARDIS…"

An image flickered in front of Buffy's eyes, as she saw Rose pull open the front of the TARDIS console, a light encompassing her, surrounding her, fusing with her.

"…and saved his life."

The TARDIS spinning off into the vortex. The TARDIS arriving, its door bursting open, as a man, surrounded by Daleks, wearing a leather jacket — a man who really _was_ the Doctor — looked back, in utter horror.

"For a few minutes," the entity with no name explained to Buffy, "Rose Tyler was the Bad Wolf. For a few minutes, she gained ultimate power over everything — all of time and space and the universe. She couldn't control it. But she knew what was in her heart."

The projected scene dancing in front of Buffy showed Rose, her eyes shining, commanding, _I bring life._ And Jack waking up, out of death, alive. Forever.

Then Rose, speaking to the Daleks, passion in her voice as she called out, _the Time War ends!_ And the Daleks crumbling to dust around her.

"And one more wish," the entity with no name said, to Buffy.

Rose, looking down at the Doctor, who was pleading with her to give the power up, because it was killing her, and she didn't know what she was doing. Telling him the words from her heart.

_I want you safe, my Doctor._

The scene faded away, leaving Buffy in the dark, with the entity that had no name, the one still wearing the guise of Rose Tyler.

"And with that wish," said the entity, "I was born."

"Rose created you," Buffy realized. "She didn't get what she was doing, but she knew she wanted the Doctor safe, and he's a super-duper trouble magnet, so… she accidentally created you."

"I have the heart of Rose Tyler," said the entity. "The soul of a human. But the abilities, vision, and knowledge of a higher-being."

"Who can screw around with time and space," Buffy muttered. She shrugged. "Yeah, that would pretty much be the only way you could keep the Doctor safe. I mean, as safe as he ever gets, considering."

The entity gave a long, sad smile.

"And Rose… when I met her, before, with Glory and stuff — she said she knew me," Buffy continued. "That's why you're all obsessed with me! That's why you can't say no to me. Because at some point in the future, I'm going to become friends with Rose. Before that whole… Bad Wolf thing happens. And you remember me!"

The entity shook its head. "I gained Rose's heart," the entity countered. "Her empathy. Her kindness. Her compassion. But _not_ her memories."

Buffy frowned. "Okay, then why with the obsession?"

The image of Rose Tyler morphed, faded, and changed once more into the Ninth Doctor. Which just stood there. Refusing to explain to Buffy why he was obsessed with her.

"Okay, okay," said Buffy, her mind racing. "Explain this, then. If you're all wanting-to-help-me, why'd you stop my psychic paper messages from reaching the Doctor?"

"Didn't," said the man in the leather jacket.

Buffy frowned. "But you said…"

"Messages got sent to me, instead," said the man. "Wrong forwarding address. Would have sent them on, but someone's put a block on all psychic paper messages between you and the Doctor."

"Well… you could lift the block!" Buffy said. "Or just tell the Doctor I'm still around. Or…"

"No."

Buffy sagged, a little. "You can't do it, huh?"

"Can," the entity replied. "Won't."

"Why not?"

The entity said nothing for a long time, a stony expression on his face, a sorrow deep within his eyes. "Would require a sacrifice," he confessed, eventually. "One I can never make."

Buffy wasn't sure what to say. Because she honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

The entity glanced over at her. "All comes down to decisions," he said. "Choices. Instances where the line between right and wrong — good and evil — is blurred. All of reality at stake. The First's goal is to wipe out the Watchers Council, erase the Slayer's training, methods, and procedures. My goal's the same — but my reasons different."

Buffy said nothing.

_It is up to you to break the cycle. Break the pattern of the old ways._

Up to Buffy to create a new and better Slayer.

The entity morphed into the Eleventh Doctor, with his bow tie and everything, his eyes meeting hers, as he took her hands in his. "You can save them, Elizabeth," he said. "Set right the wrongs of eons long-since passed. In the future, they won't remember what happened here — in 2003. Not the details. But they'll always remember your legacy."

Her… legacy? Not her, herself, but… her legacy. Yeah, that sounded about as depressing as everything in her life, right now.

Her hands melted through the entity's, as he lost his corporeal form, once more. He glanced around, then looked back at Buffy, as he took out a sonic screwdriver that didn't really exist, and was probably not really a sonic screwdriver at all.

"Save them all, Elizabeth," he said. "The Potential Slayers. The human race. The future. And… _her_." In a quiet, thoroughly earnest voice, "Please, _please_. Remember. Remember to save her." And then he buzzed the sonic at Buffy. "Good luck."

A surge of energy whipped around Buffy, tumbling her through a black, empty void, sweeping both past her and through her, making her head spin…

And she was back.

Back in the basement of her house, in Sunnydale. Unable to sleep. With Spike sprawled out on the cot behind her. And the moon flowing into the room through the basement windows.

In her mind, a part of her felt like she had never left. Every memory she'd had of the time leading up to that moment, in the real world — her finding the Scythe; her discovering the ancient guardian-lady, Alice (who had been trying to tell her something important about the Scythe, but had never gotten the chance, because Caleb had killed her, first); Buffy's killing Caleb; Angel's giving Buffy the Amulet — was all fresh inside her mind, as if she'd never gone anywhere.

But so were the memories of the other world — the quarantined timeline, inside the Axis — in which the First gained control of the Doctor, and the world ended. In which Buffy had held the baby Time Lord that would become the Slayer essence, and watched the child smile. In which Buffy had gone, and… learned.

(Just as she'd told the Shadow Men she'd wanted to do, even though they'd had no interest in teaching.)

She looked out into the moonlight, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Pretty, ain't it?" came a southern-accented voice to her right.

Buffy glanced over, to see the form of Caleb morph out of the shadows — an ethereal, non-corporeal ghost.

But not the right one.

"You're not him," Buffy said, looking away.

"No, you killed him, right and proper," said the First, thinking she was talking about Caleb. "Terrible loss." Gesturing at himself. "This man was my good right arm." He grinned. "Course, it don't pain me too much. Don't need an arm. Got an army." His voice lowered, and he whispered, "I will overrun this Earth. And when my army outnumbers the humans, scales will tip. And I will be made flesh."

"Talk on," said Buffy. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then why aren't you asleep?" the First asked. "In your dead lover's arms?" He glanced back at Spike. "Because he can't help you. Nor Faith. And certainly" — with a laugh — "not your Wanna Slay Brigade."

Buffy didn't answer.

"None of those girlies will ever know real power until you're dead!" said the First, in Caleb's visage. "You know the drill."

The First morphed, and transformed into a perfect replica of Buffy herself. Leaning in closer to Buffy, the duplicate's eyes menacing and heartless.

"Into every generation," the First said, "a Slayer is born."

_Those words. Those same words, being chanted, over and over again, by four million Slayers, determined to defend the galaxy against the Daleks._

"One girl in all the world," the First continued.

_—Why are there millions of you? Buffy had asked Jordan, back in the 39th century._

_—I don't know! Why's there only one of you?_

"She, alone, will have the strength to…" the First paused, considering. "There's that word, again. What you are. How you'll die."

_Buffy Anne Summers. The Last Slayer._

"Alone."

_The First Slayer._

The First Evil — the Origin of Evil, the Secret of Krop-Tor, the one the Doctor called 'Toby' — looked back at Buffy, through her own eyes, challengingly. And gave a proud smile.

"Where's your snappy comeback?" the First asked.

_The future is in your hands. I've put it in your hands._

"You're right," said Buffy.

The First tilted her head. "Hm," she said. "Not your best."

From the cot, Spike jerked in his sleep. "I'm drowning in…!" He shot up, suddenly awake.

And when Buffy looked back at where the First had been, the apparition had gone.

"Bad dream," Spike muttered, getting up. He sat on the edge of the cot, looking at Buffy with concern in his eyes. "Something wrong?"

"No," Buffy said. Then stopped. "Yeah," she corrected. "I… just realized something. Something that… really never occurred to me before."

_You can save them, Elizabeth. Set right the wrongs of eons long-since passed._

She'd never believed anyone's words of encouragement. Knew they couldn't be possible. Knew, in her heart, that the First was right. Even if she defeated the First, even if she survived this, the Slayer would still be doomed. Because the Slayer — created for death, for darkness, for destruction, for solitude — was always doomed.

Until now.

_The Scythe gives you a power the First doesn't want you to have. Doesn't even want you to know about._

_The power to change the future._

"We're going to win," Buffy told Spike.


	35. Epilogue

Author's Note: Oops, I lied. Forgot about the deleted scenes. So... one more chapter, after this.

But this is the end of the story.

I really, really love this ending. And the fanart from Rjalker is of this scene.

I'm reading through the next story, right now. The Bringer of Death. It's well written, a good story, and completely necessary in terms of overall story arc. And it contains serious DoctorWhump, which I know some people read for. But it is really, _really_ dark.

That one will be the only story of the series, at least so far, that's going to have to be rated M. As always, with my stories, nothing is explicit. But it's got dark enough implications that I can't in good conscience rate it T.

For those of you who want to keep reading this series, but don't want to read an M story, I'll summarize the story at the beginning of the next one. The next one is a lot lighter (I got sick and tired of writing dark stories), and is called Happy Endings.

Anyways, enjoy the end of "Your Nature".

And enjoy the deleted scenes, coming soon to a story near you!

* * *

Epilogue

...

Buffy wasn't dreaming.

She had defeated the First, watched Spike sacrifice himself to save the world, and watched her home collapse into a giant crater. She had lost so many people, and gained so many allies. She'd lost her house, her possessions — her red notebook. And she'd used the Scythe to activate every single Potential Slayer, creating an army of Slayers where once there'd only been one. She'd changed the world.

She couldn't dream that.

"You are, you know," came a Northern English accent, behind her. "Dreaming, I mean."

Buffy spun around, and found that the room had morphed into a desert landscape, the sun setting in the distance, the sky illuminated in color.

And sitting on a nearby rock was a familiar man with close-cropped brown hair, big ears, and a leather jacket. Who, Buffy guessed, wasn't the Doctor.

"Not all the rest of it, I mean," the man who wasn't the Doctor said. "Battle of the Hellmouth. Defeat of the First. Changing the world. All that bit's real. But this—" gesturing at the world around him. "You're dreaming all of this."

Buffy felt her breath catch in her throat. She'd already lost someone so incredibly precious to her, today. Spike. Now, seeing the image of someone else — someone she loved more than anything, and had lost — was almost… too much.

She didn't cry. Not on the outside. On the outside, she was stone.

"I'm never going to see him again," Buffy said. Her voice flat. Emotionless. Detached. "The Doctor. The _real_ Doctor. Because he thinks I'm dead. He'll always think I'm dead."

The man in the leather jacket said nothing.

"You don't need to sugar-coat it," said Buffy. "This great big future the Slayer has — with hope and love and admiration — I don't create it. All that's based on the me I used to be, before I came back from the dead. It's based on my _legacy_."

"Yes," the man in the leather jacket confessed.

Buffy nodded. "I'm supposed to step aside," she said. "Now that I've done the hard part. Let everyone else create the Slayer Institution. Because I'm not the hopeful, optimistic, loving person the Doctor saw, before. I'm…" she paused a moment. "I'm stone."

"You're Buffy," the man who wasn't the Doctor said. "All you ever needed to be. Last Slayer. First Slayer. First president of the New Slayer Institute."

Buffy didn't answer.

"You've been living in the Dark Ages," said the man in the leather jacket. "Age of myths and magic. Age of fairy tales and fantasy. Forgotten histories and legendary monsters and corrupted tales about one brave Slayer who fought 'em all off." He grinned. "But that time's over. Now, you're livin' the pages of history."

"I don't—"

"The Slayers you've activated — they'll need a guiding hand to push 'em along," said the man. "Get the ball rolling. They'll need you. To unite and lead, to continue the work you've begun, and…" He stopped a moment, and when he continued, his voice was far quieter, "they'll need a General. For the battle that hasn't happened, yet."

"Oh, no," said Buffy, stepping back in protest. "The First's defeated. The war's over. I'm retiring."

"Battle's over," said the man in the leather jacket. "Not the war."

Buffy didn't answer.

The man in the leather jacket's expression turned grave, solemn — just as it had when Buffy had first entered the Axis, when he'd reminded her about Anya.

"A war is being fought, here," he told Buffy. "A war I've lived through. A war I lost." His blue eyes bore into her own. "A war you can win. If you can see the battlefield."

"What?"

The man looked away, a sad smile on his lips. "Nothing. Never mind. Just remember — when Hiskaloph arrives," he said, "that's when you'll know. Your time is up."

Hiskaloph. That sounded familiar…

_"Was very good friends with President Hiskaloph," the Doctor had told Buffy, in the 39th century. "She wrote me into the Slayer Constitution."_

Buffy had written that name into her red notebook. The one that now lay at the bottom of a crater.

Buffy stared out at the vast, colorful sky. Thinking about what she'd lost. No. _Who_ she'd lost. She'd lost Spike — one of her dearest friends, one of the few people she'd relied on for everything. She'd lost him, because in the end, even if he'd once been evil and soulless and horrible, he'd still give up everything — even his own life — for her.

Just as the Evil Doctor had, in that other timeline. Monsters turned to heroes.

She'd lost Spike. She'd been unable to connect with Willow since the whole Willow-turning-evil thing. Xander was angry at her. And she knew she'd always try to push Dawn somewhere safe, whenever danger turned up.

Spike had been everything. And he was gone.

Now… there was no one.

No one left to confide in. No one left to wait for.

Because the Doctor thought she was dead. Would always think she was dead. And while he thought she was dead, he'd never have the heart to come back and check.

"I'm never going to see the Doctor again," Buffy confirmed, for herself. Because saying it out loud seemed to make it more… graspable for her. More devastating, more soul-crushing. But she'd moved beyond the need to show those emotions outside herself. "No psychic paper messages. No way of getting in touch. No hope we'll ever meet each other again."

"But you did," countered the man in the leather jacket.

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him.

"Will do," he corrected. "Are going to. Are going to have already…" He leaned back, and muttered something under his breath about stupid apes and their moronic need for tenses. "TARDIS is better at grammatical tenses than I am," he added.

Buffy's stony expression faltered, and, just for a moment, she felt almost like her old self. The self that hadn't fought and died and fought again. The her that had been with the Doctor, had been full of love and hope and happiness. The her that looked for starlight.

"I'm going to see the Doctor again?" she asked.

The man in the leather jacket said nothing for a long, long moment. Behind him, the sun sank beneath the horizon, and the sky turned dark above. The expression on the nameless not-the-Doctor entity's face matched the dreary darkness of the sky.

"You are a Line Hopper," he whispered, at long last. He dropped his hand across his knee, unable to meet her eyes. "And what happened in Elizabeth's 2003 — the deaths, the desperation, even the shattering of all hope and the destruction of two lives — must happen here. I can delay it, make sure it happens at a later date. But I cannot prevent it."

He stood up, put his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and began to walk away.

"I'm sorry about that," he told her.

Buffy stepped forwards, hand outstretched. "Hey!" she called out.

He turned, his eyes piercing through the darkness.

Buffy gave the entity a small smile.

"I forgive you," she said.


	36. Deleted Scenes

Your Nature - Deleted Scenes

**Author's Note**: So these are the scenes I wrote for the story but never intended to use. They are written purely for my own authorial knowledge, so I could keep track of things going on in the background. Relationships. People. Events. Etc.

Here's how I'm formatting this section:

First, I'll have a little blurb about why I wrote the scene. That will be in _italics_. Often, if I have other comments, such as "this part wasn't very well written" or "I've changed this information since I wrote the scene", I'll stick it in there.

Then you'll see a "..." line. Then an exerpt from the scene before it. Then a line of "-.-.-.-", after which comes the deleted scene.

You'll notice that, oftentimes, the stuff I really liked from the deleted scenes wound up getting shoved, elsewhere, into the actual story.

Some of it, though, remains in the deleted scenes.

Enjoy.

* * *

_This scene takes place during that first scene in the story, when Buffy is transported into the Axis. It was important to write, because it established the Doctor's First-possessed-psyche. Established what the actual struggle was between the Doctor and the First._

_I wanted to make it very clear to myself that the Doctor would fight against the First no matter what, even if he was completely evil, simply because the Doctor doesn't like people telling him what to do._

_As the Doctor says at the end of Your Nature, "I am not your slave!"_

_When I wrote this, I had an idea about how the Doctor decides _not_ to use the name Valeyard, as a sign of rebellion against the First. You'll see that come up in this section. I thought having the Doctor become the Valeyard was just too… easy a choice. Too predictable. And I liked having the Doctor purposely not use it. However, in the end, I decided not to put this entire Valeyard thing into the story. Since I was staying almost entirely in Buffy's point of view, it just became too confusing and hard to describe._

_I really liked Reinette at the end of this scene, though. So perfect._

...

"Still," the man in the leather jacket continued, "least this time you left the rocket launcher behind."

Buffy turned away, gritting her teeth. Pulling herself together. Of course. The First. What had just happened. It all fit. A pattern.

"You can't fool me," she muttered at the leather-jacketed man, and stalked off.

This wasn't real. None of this. She didn't know what it was, but she knew how the First operated. The First could pull out every illusion in the books, could fiddle with your emotions and make you scared enough to kill yourself, but the First couldn't step inside the world and mess around with it like this. And the First _definitely _couldn't travel in time.

(Right?)

Buffy pushed aside the sudden flood of thoughts reminding her that the First _had_ managed to do exactly that, with the help of a number of trans-temporal rifts and an insane anti-matter Time Lord, but… no. No, this wasn't real. Couldn't be. If the First could do this, it'd have done it at the start of this mess.

She left the graveyard, and headed home.

-.-.-.-

The Doctor felt the cold, hard jolt of psychic pain snake through his mind, and cried out. Shuddered back from Buffy Summers — or was it? Stumbled and fell, his eyes clenched shut, as he curled up on the console room floor.

He realized he was shaking.

"Oh, isn't that cute?" came Adric's voice, from above him. "You're still trying to fight back. And you don't even know why."

"Adric," the Doctor gasped. He gritted his teeth, as the psychic assault ramped up another notch.

"We always trust you, you know," said Adric, crouching down beside the Doctor. "You tell us to. We believe in you." He morphed, suddenly, into a tall, slender Romana, her ceremonial Gallifreyan robes still hanging on her person. "And then you kill us."

The Doctor writhed, hissing with every breath. He curled up even tighter. "Never… never give in to you…"

"Oh, Doctor, of course you will," Romana said, as she reached her hands down deep into his mind.

The Doctor screamed.

Psychic defenses crumbled beneath her touch, his every secret searing out into the open with a harsh and biting pain. He lashed out, but it was like a moth lashing out at an atomic bomb.

"Still fighting," Romana noted. "You always were a fighter, Doctor."

"I will never give you what you want," the Doctor growled.

"Always fighting," Romana continued, still sifting through the Doctor's mind, "never giving up. Never giving in. Not even if it means the death of your entire planet. You fight, even when you don't know what you're fighting for." She smiled at him. "Why not fight for me? It'd be so easy."

"I won't be your puppet," the Doctor warned. "I won't be your slave!"

"You can hardly hope to stop me," Romana reminded him. "Not now that _she_ has failed you." She moved out of the way, to reveal Buffy, the knife in her hand. Advancing towards him.

Buffy stopped in her tracks, as her eyes met his. The knife clattering to the ground.

"Your last hope," said Romana's voice, as it shifted into a low, commanding, powerful voice. A voice the Doctor knew all too well. Lord Rassilon. "Your final salvation. And she has betrayed you."

Buffy spun around, and fled the TARDIS.

Rassilon stepped into view, his robes flowing, that familiar cold gleam in his eyes. "You were my destroyer, Doctor. My valeyard. My bringer of justice. Punishing the wicked, bringing strength to the good." He extended a hand to the Doctor. "Be that again."

"Never."

Rassilon morphed into the visage of a noble, savage woman, with a determined poise. "And what if I were the one to ask this of you, Doctor?" Leela demanded of him. "You know you must strike back at those who harmed us! You must finish what you started! For me! Leela of the Severteem!"

"You're not Leela," the Doctor insisted. "Not Romana. Not Adric. Not Rassilon."

"We could all be safe," Leela said. "All your friends. We need not die as we did before. Do you not wish to save us?"

"Toby!" the Doctor shouted, hands against his head. "You're Toby!"

The visage morphed into a young girl with dark hair and wide eyes, her face sparkling even in memory. "Grandfather," she said, kneeling down beside him, "please. You killed us, once before. Accept the power. Accept the First Evil's offer. Let us live."

The Doctor gasped, as he clutched at his hearts. "I… feel," he said. Real fear flooding through him. "I can't… shouldn't… _feel_…"

"Guilt?" Susan asked him. "Loss? Pain?" She gave him a smirk. "They are your darkness, Grandfather. The source of your destruction. The emotions that cause you to forget the consequences of your actions and lose control. Why would I take them away?"

The First morphed into a perfect replica of Lucie Miller. "Admittedly, they're a bit more pointedly focused than they were before."

The Doctor gritted his teeth, his face fixed. "You will never break me."

"Think not?" said Lucie. "Thanks to you, mate, I was thrown down a black hole, and isolated for eons in a universe with only one other person. A person who happened to have an almost perfect copy of your mind and personality. Think I haven't worked out your weak points by now?"

The Doctor froze.

"Always fighting, always struggling," Lucie continued. "Against what? Yourself? Your upbringing? Your inability to help the ones you care about most?"

He painfully got to his feet, his breath ragged and gaspy. "Yes," he admitted.

"But I can give you that, Grandfather," said the First, morphing back into Susan. "I can give you inner peace. No more running, no more nightmares, no more standing by helplessly while your friends die." She gave a smile. "I can help you, Grandfather."

The Doctor surged forwards, his eyes blazing, lunging for the apparition, but passing right through her. "Don't you ever… _ever_… appear as _her_ again!"

"And what about me?" asked the First, as it changed into Irving Braxiatel.

"And me?" as it changed into his mother.

"And me?" as it changed into Alex Campbell. "You killed us all, Great Grand-dad. Your whole family. Don't make us have died in vain."

"Leave me alone!" the Doctor shouted.

"It hurts to look in the mirror and admit what you are," the First said, changing into his Fifth self. "Doesn't it? Hurts to figure out that all that fighting and daring-do and staunch egotism is just a flimsy disguise for your real self. A murderer. A killer. A lost, lonely, abandoned little boy, unable to repent for his original crime."

The Doctor said nothing for a long time. "I was seven years old," he muttered.

"Yes, I know," said the First. "Hadn't even looked into the untempered schism, yet, and already you established what you'd be forever. Someone who destroyed. Tore lives apart. Someone who wrecked everything he touched."

The Doctor couldn't speak.

"You said the schism drove me mad," said the First, transforming into the Master's first incarnation. "But you know who's really to blame for my own collapse into madness and insanity. The one person responsible for all my evilness, the person who used up all my lives. You, Doctor. Just you."

"You can't break me," the Doctor insisted. "I know what you really are!"

"But we aren't trying to break you!" insisted the First, transforming back into Adric. "We're just trying to help you. We're trying to give you everything you want."

"Your perfect universe," — Romana.

"The means to protect your friends," — Braxiatel.

"The ability to fix your mistakes," — Charlie.

The Doctor grabbed at his head. "This is wrong!"

"Of course it's wrong!" said the image of Jack Harkness. "I'm wrong, you're wrong, we're all of us wrong. But that's never stopped us before, has it? Never stopped you." With a smirk. "Especially not when it comes to Rose Tyler."

The Doctor's eyes grew dark. "Don't you dare…"

Jack began ticking off the items on his fingers. "You released the Reapers to feed on the Earth, you nearly let World War III break out, you let loose a Dalek in Utah, killing hundreds and potentially destroying the world. And all because of the lovely Miss Rose Marion Tyler."

"I swear," the Doctor said, "if you harm her…"

The First shifted into Romana. "I'd hardly harm her," she muttered. "You seem to be under the misapprehension that I want to hurt you. All I'm doing is trying to give you what you want most. Make sure you're not alone."

The Doctor stared.

"Quite simple, really," Romana said. "Nothing evil about it. Simply serve out your calling as the Valeyard. Punish the wicked, destroy the destroyers. Bring justice to the Earth. Rose may be gone, the Battle of Canary Warf might already have happened, but that doesn't change the truth. You don't have to be alone."

"I can't," the Doctor said. "I can't save everyone. I can't do what you say!"

"My poor, lost, lonely little Doctor," said Reinette, her eyes shimmering beneath the TARDIS lights. "You don't have to save everyone. Just one person."

The Doctor's eyes went dull. "I can't," he said. "Even if I destroyed Canary Warf before 2007. Time would balance, re-establish itself along another path. Rose would still be lost to me."

"I wasn't talking about Rose," said Reinette.

* * *

_I knew the Doctor needed to meet Caleb at some point. So… I wrote the scene in, here. Mainly to establish their relationship._

_I also wanted to make sure I knew how the First had 'just come into the universe' and, for some reason, had also 'always been here'._

...

"So… you're the Slayer, and you're _not_ slaying Mr. Evilness?" Xander asked.

"The Doctor _isn't _evil…" Buffy hesitated. "I mean, he _is_ evil, now, but he wasn't evil, before, and…" She cursed, inwardly, as she realized that this wasn't actually helping. "…and this isn't important! Time's gotten changed, and I have to change it back! This isn't the right timeline!"

Once again, completely blank faces around her.

And Buffy had a horrible, sinking feeling in her chest, as she realized… they'd never work it out.

She spun around, to race out of the library, then hesitated. Ran back. Grabbed the boxes of band candy out of Xander, Willow, Oz, and Cordelia's arms, then dumped them in the trash.

"Don't eat the candy," she said, as she left the library.

-.-.-.-

The Doctor had just explained to Hartman exactly why she had to die. And she'd run. Which didn't bother him, any. He'd work out a way to get her, eventually. To make her pay for everything she was going to do.

Then, out of the shadows, a figure appeared, just in front of Hartman. Reached out and snapped her neck.

The crack sound resonated through the air.

"Well, now," came a southern accent from the States, as the figure turned around to face the Doctor. "Can't let you kill all the dirty whores by yourself, can I?"

The Doctor eyed the newcomer suspiciously, trying to decide what to say. What to do. He had been hoping to make Hartman's death fitting, to make it something she honestly deserved. Perhaps sucking her into the void and making her spend eternity surrounded by nothingness. Or making one of her super-secret alien weapons backfire on her. Or even banishing each and every one of her loved ones into a parallel and sealed-off universe, just so she'd know what it was like.

But, on the other hand, she was still dead. And that was all the Doctor needed.

(He simply didn't like the way the stranger seemed to relish the death.)

"This isn't a game," the Doctor told the stranger.

"No, I reckon it ain't," the stranger agreed, strolling up to the Doctor. He was attired in a black preacher suit, his hair flopping into his eyes. "For me, you could say it's something of a religious experience. Killin' all the whores. Makin' them see their own blood spilt upon the ground."

The Doctor was about to inform the stranger that he was barmy and then walk away, when the Doctor caught the sight of something appearing from midair — out of the corner of his eye. He sighed.

"One of yours, then?" he asked the First. "Should have guessed. He's even more loopy than Omega."

"I thought it appropriate that you two should meet," said the form of Romana. She gave the Doctor a scolding look. "As much as you dislike the reality of it, Doctor, maintaining political and social connections with others is important."

"Call me Caleb," said the preacher, extending a hand. "A fellow bringer of the good word from the origin of all evil itself. A messenger of the Dark Lord since I first merged with him, five years ago."

The Doctor didn't take it. He raised an eyebrow. "Dark Lord? Didn't know Sauron was in town." He glanced back at the First, his forehead creasing into a frown, as he worked through all the implications of Caleb's statement.

"Is that supposed to be humor?" Caleb asked the First.

The First gave a small, proud smile. "He's thinking."

Speaking about him as if he were a pet doing a special trick. As if he were just their little trained monkey.

"Ah," said the Doctor, pointing at the First. "The temporal explosion. When you released yourself, you used the aftershock of the explosion to slide into our reality along every point in the past, present, and future. Just like the Hellmouth's always been here, so you've always been here, too."

Caleb looked lost.

The First just gave him Romana's challenging stare and vaguely amused smile. "Aren't you a clever one?" She gave a dismissive wave. "Still. Would be a simple deduction for anyone who'd taken a basic trans-temporal rift theory mathematics course at the Academy."

The Doctor looked the image of Romana up and down. "You don't do her very convincingly," he said. He nodded at Caleb. "Why'd you bring Mr. Freudian-Field-Day here, then? Or did you just want to show off all the 'perks' of being your faithful, willing servant?"

"Tell him," Romana commanded the Doctor, "about the Slayer."

The Doctor froze. Then turned, and tried to walk away. "There's nothing to tell."

He felt a jolt of icy fingers invading his mind, the psychic wave intruding so powerfully that he couldn't stop it, and he stumbled and collapsed against a nearby wall, his hands scrambling for purchase.

"I can read your thoughts," the First reminded him. "There's something about her. Something you noticed. I want you to tell Caleb what that is."

The Doctor glared at the First, trying to erect some mental shields, trying to fight back. But there was nothing he could do. The words left his lips as if forced out from somewhere deep inside of him, something he couldn't control.

"She shouldn't be here!"

Caleb gave a smile. "Of course she shouldn't be here," he said. "She should be hacked into little pieces! Severed and destroyed! Tossed into the cleansing fire like she deserves!"

The Doctor spun around and lunged for Caleb, but the First's hold on his mind tightened, and he collapsed onto the ground, unable to close the distance between them.

"Oh, don't overreact," said the First, rolling her eyes at the Doctor. "There's no point in harming her, now." She turned to Caleb, gesturing a hand at the struggling Doctor. "Honestly, he's always like this. A born fighter — and unable to stop. He even destroyed his own planet."

Caleb stepped in closer, towards the First, speaking in a low voice. "You sure about him?"

The First gave a proud smile. She made a gesture, miming yanking a chain, and the Doctor grunted as he felt the psychic tug that followed, echoing a thousand times stronger within his own mind.

"He's quite safe," the First told Caleb. "For me, at least. I can see every thought, hear every mental whisper. All he knows, I know." It raised an eyebrow at Caleb. "And without him, I'd have to wait. To adhere to the balance."

Caleb eyed the Doctor, warily.

The First stepped back, and spoke in a louder voice, one that both Caleb and the Doctor could hear. "I've been listening to the Slayer. She says she's from the future. She says this reality isn't her own, and addresses me like an old enemy. Even though I have only just met her."

"Then we will be victorious!" said Caleb. "In the future, your plans will succeed, and evil will—"

"She's not from the future," the Doctor said, getting back to his feet. "Not our future, at any rate. And even if she were, she isn't anymore."

Caleb frowned.

"The moment she appeared in the TARDIS in her younger-self's place, the future changed," the Doctor explained. "She made a different set of decisions. A different set of choices." He glared at the First.

"He asked her to kill him," the First explained to Caleb. "And she didn't." She sighed, and turned back to the Doctor. "As if I would ever have let you die, while you were so nicely lined up to fall under my power."

"We're not gonna kill the Slayer?" Caleb asked. He seemed thoroughly disappointed.

"She has knowledge that may prove useful," the First dismissed. She gestured at the Doctor. "And for some inexplicable reason, she refuses to kill him. I believe she's in love with him."

Caleb made a disgusted face. "And him with her? Now that's mighty wicked."

"Him? No, not in love," the First dismissed. "He's curious. He wants to know who and what she is. Such an odd creature, he is. And so tedious to train."

"Oi!" said the Doctor. "Would you stop talking about me as if I were your pet?"

The First raised an eyebrow at him, then called out, "Heel!"

The Doctor felt his legs turning rubbery, and he thudded to his knees beside the First, who gave him a proud look.

"Good boy," said the First.

The Doctor seethed.

Caleb gave the Doctor a long, dark stare. "He'll keep fighting you," he said to the First. "He ain't gonna stop just because you gave him a slap on the wrists."

The First's eyes glowed in anticipation. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

* * *

_Is Caleb being smart to question the First for choosing the Doctor? Or just feeling jealous that he wasn't chosen, himself? Probably a little of both._

...

Buffy bit her lip, then turned and raced out of the school. She was going to hate herself for doing this, but dangerous times called for dangerous allies, and the most important thing was correcting the timeline. To do that, she needed the one person who knew how to summon creatures of chaos. The one who was currently in town, distributing drugged band candy.

She needed Ethan Rayne.

-.-.-.-

"He's your choice, then?" Caleb asked the First.

"Well, he'll do for a start," the First admitted. "Until I can get my hands on the Key, and kill him off forever. Then it's just a matter of manifesting inside the rest of the universe."

"And he knows nothing about this?" Caleb asked. "No idea as to your real intentions?"

The First rolled its eyes. "Of course he knows," it said. "He worked it out the moment he heard that I was making him my servant. He's a clever one."

Caleb looked back, staring off where the Doctor had once been. "He seems a bit…"

"What?"

"Belligerent," Caleb said.

The First crossed its arms. "Are you questioning my judgment?"

"Not at all," Caleb insisted, backing off.

The First glanced off in the direction the Doctor had disappeared. "He's strong-willed," it admitted. "But powerful. Very powerful. And there's so much darkness in him."

"He holds it back," said Caleb. "He struggles against it."

"He relies on human beings to lead him back from the precipice," said the First. "Kill them, and any goodness left in him will disappear." The First smiled. "Revenge. Strength. And power. Everything I need in a new host. I will manifest inside of him, Caleb. I will crush him. And with his power, his strength, his intelligence — I will be unstoppable."

"I have no doubt," Caleb assured it. "I just thought your new host would be one of your disciples. Someone worthy of your divine splendor."

"He operates outside the balance," said the First. "And even fighting against me, he can do more harm to this world than you can, as my willing servant." It shrugged. "An obvious choice, really."

"And a dangerous one," said Caleb.

The First sauntered over to Caleb. "I've had eons to delve into his mind," it said. "Millennia to work out how to control it. He can fight and struggle all he wants, but in the end, there's nothing he can do. No way he can stop me. It is only a matter of time before he is fully under my control."

Caleb gave a small frown. "Time is what I'm worried about."

* * *

_This scene doesn't quite work. But I figured since it wasn't going into the story, anyways, it wasn't worth rewriting it to make it work. The point I wanted to make sure I, personally, remembered for the rest of the story is that the Doctor believes Caleb is an idiot because he follows the First willingly._

...

"One day," the Doctor said, softly, "you will decide to come with me. One day, you will turn your back on your friends, family, and duty, and help me in my purpose. And you will choose to do it."

He swept out a hand, knocking back Willow, who'd been sneaking up behind him, and sending her tumbling to the ground. He turned, not even sparing Willow a second glance, and began to walk away.

Buffy found herself transfixed to the spot, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

"One day," the Doctor called back to her, "Buffy Anne Summers. You'll help me."

-.-.-.-

"Mighty foolish, that is," Caleb mused, emerging from the shadows and strolling up beside the Doctor. He looked over his shoulder, at where Buffy was standing. "She won't help you. No, sir. Take my word on it. That little girly back there — she'll drag you down into the mud, with her filthy lies and whorish sins."

The Doctor ignored Caleb.

"Now, I reckon, if you wanted to do it clean and nice," Caleb continued, "you could set a trap, see. Sacrifice her on the altar of our one true savior. Spill her blood upon the—"

"You're an idiot," the Doctor cut in.

Caleb paused. Then gave his twisted half-smile, the one he always gave when he fantasized about murder and bloodshed. "You reckon?" he asked. "Because I'm just as good at setting traps as you are. Better. I get more results. More blood spilt. Tally up the scores on the walls of Hell, and I win — every time."

"And you want a medal for that?" asked the Doctor.

"Already got something better," said Caleb. "After all. At the end of the day, when all's said and done and the First's consumed this world, I'm going to be at his glorious side. Partakin' in the bloodshed." He glanced over at the Doctor. "Whereas you… well, you, my friend. You'll be dead."

The Doctor didn't answer.

"Sounds to me," said Caleb, "like I'm the clever one, Doc."

The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, and shook his head. "You follow the First willingly," he said. "You believe every lie told to you. That's what makes you an idiot, Caleb. The biggest idiot of them all."

* * *

_This scene was vital to write. In the previous scene, when the First is taunting the others, it has this entire thing in the back of its mind. Which is why the First gets so defensive and insistent about its own power over everyone and everything. And why the First doesn't want to answer any questions about the Doctor taking down Torchwood before the Slayer._

...

"You heard about the balance between good and evil?" asked the First, in the form of Jesse. "Well, I'm done with it." His eyes twinkled. "And with Torchwood gone, and the Doctor in my power — I never have to worry about the balance, again."

"Huh?" Xander asked. "What's Torchwood got to do with the balance?"

Jesse winked at them. "All you need to know," he said, "is that you're all going to die. And there's nothing you can do to stop it." Then he folded into the air, and vanished.

-.-.-.-

"We've got a problem," the First told Caleb.

Caleb gave the First a smirk. "Well, don't want to say I told you so, but… I told you so."

"I've had millennia to work out how to control his mind!" the First retorted. "I know every string to pull. Every card to play. Every emotion to unlock to make sure he does exactly what I want. That's not the problem."

Caleb's smirk dropped a little. "The Slayer?"

"Rose Tyler," the First corrected.

Caleb laughed. "Another dirty little girl?"

"She can manipulate his mind," the First complained. "Loosen my hold over him. She asked him not to kill someone, and now he refuses. Stubbornly refuses!" The First stomped his foot. "And I can't reach in and change his mind!"

"She's his dirty little whore, ain't she?" asked Caleb.

"In her future," the First said. It paused. "And one of my bitter enemies. From a long, long time ago. Back on Krop-Tor."

"Then I'll get rid of her," Caleb promised.

The First shook its head. "She's got too much power over him," it muttered. "If you strike out, he'll strike back. You'd never be able to touch her." The First began to pace. "What we need is something to keep him occupied. Someone else he can obsess over. Someone very far away." It smiled, as it looked back at Caleb. "Someone he's curious about."

"Curiosity got the cat," Caleb agreed.

* * *

_I needed to write the moment the Doctor worked out that Buffy died, in her own past. So when I mentioned it, later, it made sense to me in my mind._

_This wound up being the first time I wrote the evil Doctor to be enthusiastic, geeky, and boyish. I loved the way it turned out. So I shoved it into the rest of the story._

_..._

"I think I'd like to meet this 'Doctor'," said the Mayor. "Make him an offer he can't refuse."

"And the Slayer?" asked Mr. Trick. "Should we kill her?"

"No, no!" said the Mayor. "I can't give up my best bargaining chip, now, can I?" He folded his arms, thinking the matter over. "If this Doctor wants her — well, you and I both know she'll never give herself up without a fight." He tilted his head. "I say — let's give the man what he wants."

"And how do we take her down?" Mr. Trick asked.

The Mayor grinned.

-.-.-.-

"This is interesting," came the voice of Buffy Summers.

The Doctor glanced up from the device he was working on, but his expression didn't change. He just noted the occurrence, then turned back to his work. "You're not her."

"And he isn't even surprised," the First sighed. She crossed her arms. "Explain it, brainiac. Why can I turn into Buffy?"

"She must have died," the Doctor said. "In her reality. And been brought back to life. You took advantage of the fact that the balance between good and evil had shifted so wildly between such extremes, and began harassing her. The way you always do." He hit the side of the machine, frowned, then scurried over to the other side. "Her transfer into this world wouldn't have affected the Slayer Line. But her personal timeline would still allow you to perform your little trick."

"So we are old enemies," the First confirmed. "In her reality."

"Perhaps she hates you as much as I do."

"I don't think anyone could hate me as much as you do, right now," said the First. It snuck over to the Doctor, and leaned in closer. He gritted his teeth, and pushed back as hard as he could with his own mind. A valiant but futile gesture of defiance. The First stayed put.

"Then why is she here?" asked the First. "In this reality?"

"No idea," said the Doctor, popping back to his feet, as the device lit up. He grinned, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Oh, look at that!" He rushed over to the display, whipping out his brainy-specs and peering at the output.

The First sighed. "I give you ultimate power over everything, and you use it to build gadgets," she muttered. "Talk about science geek."

The Doctor ignored her. He put a hand up to the screen, tracing the letters as if they could tell him something, reverence in his every action. "Now, what are you?"

The First's interest peaked. "What have you found?"

"I don't know." The Doctor beamed. "Brilliant, isn't it? Love not knowing."

"What you've found is powerful," said the First, analyzing his mind. "Very powerful. And… not from this world."

"Came with her," the Doctor concurred, shifting a few parameters on his device. "Thought I felt something, at the back of my mind. Course, hard to detect these sorts of things by myself, what with you cavorting through my mental landscape willy nilly."

If the Doctor had expected the First to retreat from his mind, at this comment, he was to be disappointed. For the First did the opposite. It knew his tricks. His traps. His distractions. And it knew that this was an attempt at manipulation.

An attempt to hide something.

The First dug for it. Rummaged through his mind, seeking it out. And then, narrowing in on the information, the First drew the thought out, inspected it in the open, and smiled.

"This thing you've found," said the First, "it's a weapon."

* * *

_I had this idea that Caleb calls Rose Tyler a whore (because Caleb calls everyone a whore), and the Doctor blows up at him. I also knew that Jack was around, defending Rose._

_I wanted this to be the reason the Doctor _doesn't_ blow up the Watchers' Council. Because the Doctor cares more about saving Rose than about killing some Watchers._

_So I wrote this scene._

_When I deleted it, I realized that it was a little hard to tell where the Doctor was, during that time, and why he wasn't blowing up the Watchers' Council. So I stuck a bunch of "Bad Wolfs" around it, just to make sure that everyone knew it had something to do with Rose._

_I think most people got that._

...

The Watchers around Travers laughed, as they all flocked back into the Watchers Council building. Giles stayed behind, a moment, staring at the still-standing building. Trying to think it through. Trying to work out why.

Why?

Why would the Doctor do nothing?

Giles turned to follow the others into the building, then paused, and glanced back. At the shop opposite him.

The Bad Wolf Boutique.

What an odd name for a boutique. And what an odd thing he hadn't noticed it before. Had it always been called that? Of course it had. Silly that he hadn't remembered.

He sighed, then re-entered the Watchers Council.

-.-.-.-

"You keep your hands off of her," Jack warned, standing between Caleb and Rose.

Caleb grinned at Jack. "Now, here's someone I like," he said. "Y'see, most folks, when you kill 'em, they stay dead. But this one…" He reached forwards, and plunged the knife into Jack's flesh, faster than Jack could react.

Jack fell, lifeless, to the ground.

"How long d'you reckon that'll take to recover from?" Caleb asked Rose, wiping off the knife blade. "Long enough to kill a dirty, filthy whore like you, I figure."

Rose tried to run, but Caleb caught her by the wrist, her wide, terrified eyes fixed on him.

"Let me tell you a story," he said, the knife blade by her throat. "Once upon a time, there was a valiant child. Who tried to defy the one true power in this world. But she was a sinner, a dirty whore whose unclean filth needed to be purified." He gave a cold smile. "Through his one true servant."

Rose squeezed her eyes shut.

Then, faster than anyone could process, Rose was released, and Caleb was thrown back against the side of the building, cracking the "O" in the graffitied "Bad Wolf".

"Jack," came the voice of the figure that had just appeared between Rose and Caleb. A figure in a pinstripe suit, with brown eyes that shone darker than coal.

Jack gasped back to life, and the moment he saw the Doctor, he swore. He stumbled to his feet, grabbing Rose by the shoulders, protectively, trying to seem as threatening as he could against the man he'd once idolized above all others.

The Doctor afforded him only a glance. "Get her out of here," he demanded, his eyes resting back on Caleb, his every muscle pulsing in anger.

Jack looked between the Doctor and Rose, then decided that he was better off trusting the Doctor than Caleb, and bundled Rose off towards her Mum's.

The Doctor just stayed, glaring at Caleb.

Caleb gave an unhinged laugh. "Trust you to come back for your whore."

The Doctor didn't bother answering Caleb. Didn't even bother to acknowledge him. He glanced at the area nearby, at the empty air and abandoned spaces, and said, in a loud voice, "How often?"

No answer.

"How often!" the Doctor shouted. "How long has this been going on? How long have you been trying to kill her?"

"Ever since I discovered she could control you," came the voice of Romanadvoratralundar, from behind the Doctor. "Better than I could." She gave her regal, Time Lord sigh, the way she always used to when she was alive. "Really, Doctor. You fight and struggle against someone as powerful as me, but one word from a twelve-year-old child, and you fall to pieces."

The Doctor looked around, noticing the Bringers vanishing into the distance, and his expression grew even graver. "Every time I've been in Sunnydale. You've been here. Trying to kill her."

"I'm surprised it took you so long to catch on," said Romana. "You're getting old, Doctor."

"I knew you were up to something," the Doctor growled, advancing towards her, "the moment I discovered every single Watcher was gathered together in one place. It wasn't hard to work out the rest."

"Problem with you," Caleb put in, getting back to his feet, "is that you're weak. Pushed around by these unclean folk with all their womanly wiles."

The Doctor eyed Caleb, with dark eyes, then shook his head. "Oh, you stupid, stupid man."

"Y'see, I saw the light," Caleb continued. "I saw the future. And it belongs to the all-powerful, all-knowing power of the First Evil. The Devil Incarnate. The Great Master of Horrors Untold! The all-mighty—"

"You've seen the future, you say?" the Doctor asked, stepping forwards, his strides long and his face stormy. "Funny thing. So have I. And you know who isn't in it?" He stopped, his face right in Caleb's. "Anyone that dares to call Rose Tyler a whore."

And with a click from a red pen in the Doctor's hand, Caleb vanished.

The First sighed. "Was that entirely necessary?"

"Yes," said the Doctor, glancing down at his hand. "Always." He untucked a fold of his shirtsleeve, to reveal the item he'd just stolen from Jack, just now. The vortex manipulator.

"The time-loop seemed to be thrown in purely as an act of revenge," the First pointed out.

The Doctor, for the first time, allowed himself a smile. "All of it is necessary." He threw the pen onto the ground and smashed it with his foot, then took out his sonic screwdriver, and buzzed it at the vortex manipulator. "Entirely necessary."

The First tensed, a little wary. "What are you planning?"

The Doctor looked over his shoulder. "Your complete destruction, of course." He raised up the vortex manipulator. "What else?"

And with a press of the button, he vanished.

* * *

_When I got to this point in the story, I hit a dead end in terms of inspiration for where to go next. I knew that it would take Jack and Rose a certain amount of time to get across the country, and I needed Buffy to kill some time so they could arrive._

_But I didn't really know what she could do._

_So I just started writing deleted scenes, until some inspiration popped into my head._

...

"Buffy," said Willow, in a low voice, coming up beside her. "I don't get what's going on. I don't get why you suddenly have super-powers, or why you can't kill the Doctor, or who Dawn is and why you want to find her so much. And I know if I ask you to clarify, you'll just start stalling again. So tell me one thing." She gave a sad sigh, glancing around herself. "Before the Doctor came. The world. Was it better than this?"

Buffy said nothing for a long time. Then, with a heavy reluctance, she nodded.

"A lot better?"

She nodded again.

Willow turned to all the others. "Then we know what we have to do."

"Don't!" Buffy cut in. She stepped in between Willow and the others. "Look, I'm going to stop him. I'm going to fix all of this, and make sure he never hurts anyone ever again. I just… can't… you know."

"Kill him," Anya provided. "Harm him. Let him die. Wish him ill. Want him strung up by his toenails and flayed alive for sleeping with you and then ditching you." She rolled her eyes. "Seriously. What kind of a woman are you?"

-.-.-.-

"You can't run forever," said the voice of Romana.

The Doctor spun around, and saw her non-corporeal image before him.

"And if I don't," he said, "I die. That's how it goes, isn't it?"

"You're mostly dead, already," Romana told him. "If you give in, let me take over voluntarily, I might let some of you survive."

"Oh, you'd do that anyways," the Doctor replied. "You need some of me in there, so you don't get caught up in your little 'balance'. Until you get the Key, that is. Then the whole universe is in your hands, and I become disposable."

Romana shifted before his eyes, and turned into a pouting Susan. "Please, Grandfather!" she whined. "Can't you just give me what I want?"

He grinned at the apparition. "Nice try."

"I'm going to take her anyways," said Susan. "You can't stop me."

"I can't," the Doctor agreed. "She can. Both of them." His eyes glowed with anticipation, as he leaned down to look into the First's eyes. "You used me. You manipulated my mind, tried to kill me, and threatened every single one of my friends. And — you know what?" His grin fell off his face, and his eyes grew dark. "I'm going to destroy you for that."

The First morphed into the form of Rassilon, as it sent a crippling psychic jolt through the Doctor's mind. One that made him cry out, toppled him to the ground. One that made his face ashy and white, his eyes unfocused, his jaw tensed in pain.

"What I've failed to mention," said Rassilon, "is that I've tightened my reigns. Your days of freedom are over, Doctor. Your running is at an end. You cannot hide from what you are."

"What you want me to be!" the Doctor gritted through his teeth.

Rassilon circled around the Doctor, boots crunching against the fallen leaves. "You are my puppet. My new vessel. The form in which I will manifest. Your petty rebellion is fruitless. Your futile attempts to shield your thoughts absurd. All you know, I know. All I am, you will be. No one can stop me."

"Then why are you worried about Rose?" the Doctor demanded.

Rassilon laughed. "Your valiant child?" he asked. "She will die, Doctor. And so will the others. Every one of your links to humanity, every person who makes you slip that much more from my grasp. They will fall, one by one, until there's no one left." Rassilon paused. "Well, no one except Jack."

The Doctor leveled his gaze at Rassilon. "That's what I thought," he wheezed, as the mental pain intensified. "Her power was greater than yours will ever be. You can't kill Jack. You can't stop the Bad Wolf." He stifled a yelp of pain, as the First pulled at the Doctor's mind. "And — because of that — you'll never... ever... get... the... Slayer!"

The First turned back into Romana, kneeling down in front of the Doctor, her eyes blazing. "I'll get the Slayer," she hissed. "That Scythe is mine. And I'm going to use it."

"Oh, Toby," said the Doctor, trying to force a laugh, but failing. "You, of all people, should know. It is not for thee. It is for her alone to wield."

-.-.-.-

_It's interesting how things change. When I first wrote that, I thought the Doctor was right — that Rose's omnipotent power as the Bad Wolf was the reason the First couldn't touch Jack or any decision Rose made in that moment._

_Now, I have a different reason._

-.-.-.-

"I don't understand why we're doing this in the first place," Jackie Tyler complained, trudging through the prairie. "We were living in a perfectly good cave back in London. And then," glaring at Jack, "he shows up."

"Mum," said Rose, with a sigh. "We're going to be fine." She turned back to Jack, and asked, in a softer voice, "Why doesn't she remember?"

"She doesn't have one of these," said Jack, taking out a small Yale key on a string.

"Neither do I," Rose pointed out.

"You will," Jack assured her, putting the key back into the pocket of his military greatcoat. He held out his hand, and stopped the others a second, listening for signs of danger. Because he knew there would be danger. There was always danger.

"Jack!" Rose gasped, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around. She pointed to the eyeless monster heading towards them, and Jack could feel her trembling.

He forgot, sometimes, just how young Rose still was. That she was only twelve years old — and not yet the fearless, determined, strong Rose that he had met back in World War II. Just twelve.

(And that damn Caleb had the gall to call her a whore!)

"Get back," Jack warned her, stepping forwards and unsheathing a sword he'd picked up the moment he'd discovered that guns had no effect on the eyeless creeps. He hadn't been great with a sword — the swordplay he was used to was usually a lot nakeder and way more pleasant — but he'd gotten increasingly better at it ever since this ordeal had begun.

Rose stumbled back, huddling closer to her mum and Lily. Jack lunged towards the eyeless creature, who threw him back, and he rolled across the ground, popping up to his feet as quickly as he could.

But it was the roll that proved his undoing.

As always, when Jack got too close to them, Lily began screaming. Jackie tried to hush the child, Rose tried to soothe her, but the noise had caught the attention of every other undead creature nearby. A number of other eyeless beings began to emerge from the foliage, along with vampires, demons, and probably a few old fashioned wild animals.

Rose took Lily from her mother, and held her very close, rocking her so that the child grew calmer. Rose tried to hide the terror inside her under a mask of determination, but it was clear that she had no idea what to do.

Jackie, of course, had resorted to yelling at Jack for getting them into this whole mess in the first place.

Jack looked at the circling monsters. "All right, Doc," he said, to the air. "Now would be a really, really good time for one of your miracles."

As if on cue, the TARDIS key in his pocket began to glow red hot.

Jack winced, as he dragged it out, and it shone through the night, glowing as if illuminating the darkness. At the sight of it, the creatures began to shudder away, their hands over their eyes. Even the eyeless creatures retreated, as if the glow of the key burned them.

"Why… why did it do that?" Rose asked.

Jack had absolutely no idea. But he just grinned at Rose, and winked, as he put the key away in his pocket, once more.

"Someone out there likes you, Rosie," he said.

He turned, looking for the next marker, and — sure enough — found it up ahead. One lone tree, by itself, carved with the words, "Bad Wolf."

In a very familiar handwriting.

"Guess that's where he wants us to go," muttered Jack.

-.-.-.-

_Anyways! After writing those two scenes (actually, the Jack and Rose scene I wrote first, then the other one), I just thought the thing about the Scythe and the inscription was too good to keep in a deleted scene, so I had Buffy show up and find the inscription for herself._

_I started writing that scene, where Buffy beats up the monks and the First, disguised, shows her the inscription, but ran into problems. The monks kept referring to what the Doctor had done, when he showed up at the community, and I figured I needed to work out what really happened, before I wrote it._

-.-.-.-

The moment the Doctor had shown up at the cave community and seen the four monks — one of whom, suspiciously, couldn't touch anything — he'd known. Another case of him being used. Another instance of him being jerked around and manipulated.

He'd wanted to say something. Maybe to the other monks, but mainly to Toby. He wanted to shout at this non-corporeal nitwit who kept treating all this as if it were a game.

But Toby hadn't lied. The reins on his mind had been drastically tightened. He could feel himself losing control entirely, sometimes. Still able to see, understand, feel, but unable to take control and move himself about.

Toby's new vessel.

Brilliant.

"Enjoy a good gloat, do you?" the Doctor asked, as his hands involuntarily carved the letters into the stone in the hidden chamber.

"I want Buffy Summers to know," the non-corporeal monk beside him explained, "that the Slayer is mine."

"Even though she isn't," the Doctor pointed out.

"She will be," the First assured him. "There's nothing you can do to stop me. Even now, your mind is crumbling."

"And, of course, you want to see if I'm right," the Doctor sighed. "As if I'd be wrong about something like this."

"That too," the First confirmed, as the Doctor finished the message. The First gave a sappy smile. "Good boy," it praised.

The Doctor turned on the entity, fire in his eyes. "Couldn't you just bugger off somewhere else and leave me alone?" he demanded. "There have to be other planets for you to destroy. Other people for you to kill."

The First laughed. "Oh, you don't even know how far you've fallen. Before this all started, you'd have been begging me to spare the others' lives."

The Doctor threw the chisel through the First. "What I want," he growled, "is my freedom. And I'll fight you for that every single day."

* * *

_And so conclude the deleted scenes! I know I could have written a lot more, but these were really just intended as notes to allow me to know what was going on in the background of the story._

_As the reader worked out more and more, it became less and less necessary to write scenes in the background._

_Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this story! Stay tuned for the Bringer of Death._


End file.
